Planting Hope
by I love Lukey
Summary: Luke brings Lorelai a present that will last for generations. They reminisce about the past, dream about the future, and celebrate the present. Set in Season 4, the night before the test run.
1. Chapter 1 Digging to China

**Planting Hope**

**Chapter One – Digging to China**

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Thank you so much **Jewels12** for taking the time to beta this story. As always, your comments and suggestions are so helpful. It's such a treat to work with you. I feel like the luckiest author alive!

**~*~*~**

Lorelai visualized her way around the Dragonfly, arranging the finishing touches that made the inn more homelike and gave it its personality. All these months of making decisions and purchases could now be put together in an attractive, artistic package. She subconsciously reached back into the dusty files of her mind, and accessed the years upon years of tutelage under Emily Gilmore. Anyone who knew the Gilmores' discriminating eye had to admit that Emily's knack for making her surroundings beautiful was a gift that she inherited from her mother, and one that she passed down straight to Lorelai.

Lorelai's life in the manor gave her the background to choose furnishings tastefully, and to use her instincts to put things together artistically. She loved accessorizing the rooms, making them sparkle with personality. It was her reward for enduring countless hours of mind-numbing activities that she had an aptitude, but no true passion for. Had it not been for the underlying desire to be her own boss, and to be in charge of her own destiny, she'd leave the financial aspect of running the inn completely to someone else.

To Lorelai, this wasn't work; this was second nature. Instinctively tossing pillows here, and curios there, Lorelai took in every detail of her new establishment. She balanced vases, pictures, clocks, and figurines by visual weight, shape, and color. She used only the creative part of her mind, allowing the critical side to rest. Lorelai smiled to herself, enjoying a few moments of quiet in _her_ inn.

Her friends would all share her joy tomorrow as they dined and celebrated at the inn's test run. These friends were more like family to her now. They embraced her wholeheartedly. Although each and every townie had his own quirks, she loved them all, and they loved her.

This was it. The test run didn't need to be perfect, but she really wanted it to run smoothly, and with the support of her friends, she believed that it wouldn't be any other way. Lorelai was the town's shining gem, their beacon of sunshine, and they would be there, rooting for her, as they had been from day one.

She hummed cheerfully as she tied back the curtains in the library with large tasseled loops procured from a fabric manufacturer that specialized in high-end antique reproductions. It was just one of many, many details that she had to decide upon to make this inn the unique establishment that she had envisioned for twenty years.

It was way after five, and most of her employees were long gone. The tradesmen and groundskeepers who were still milling about would be packing up soon. Even Sookie, who had worked indefatigably in the kitchen, had to call it quits and go home, before she collapsed in an exhausted heap. Tomorrow would be a long day, and the kitchen staff, especially, would need all of their strength.

Stepping back to admire the newly tied drapes, she caught a glimpse of Luke's rugged, green truck. Instantly, it sent her pulse racing and her heart leaping in her chest. This phenomenon had been happening all too often lately as she and Luke tiptoed around each other, testing the waters of their attraction for one another.

Ever since he had invited her to his sister's wedding, there was a tangible difference in the energy between them. They were shy and awkward around each other now, but it was a feeling of excited anticipation, not one of dread. Nothing had been explicitly stated, yet the implication was there, in every glance, half-smile, and overly cautious gesture.

She had found out a few days ago that Luke would be attending the test run. It surprised her how nervous and excited she was about the news. She knew he wasn't seeing anyone, but her stomach still tensed when Michel informed her that Luke had responded. She waited with bated breath as he looked up Luke's confirmation, and said that yes, Luke was indeed arriving solo. Lorelai breathed a sigh of relief, even though there was no reason to believe he wouldn't be coming alone.

Of all the guests in attendance, she valued his opinion the most, even more than that of her own parents, who were hiding their marital separation from their own daughter. And in a stubborn refusal to include her in their lives, they opted to continue the charade of marital bliss, rather than to admit they were having problems. She couldn't rely on their approval anyway, since they have never approved of anything she had done since she peed on the test strip and it turned pink, twenty years ago. But Luke had been there for her, offering reassurance and support ever since the day she went to him revealing that she was ready to venture, like he did, into self-employment.

Peering though the window, she didn't see Luke, so she exited through the front door and scoped the grounds from the porch. She found him to her right, with a pointed shovel in one hand, pacing at a diagonal from the corner of the inn. He was counting his broad footsteps aloud. She admired his movements for several minutes before saying anything, trying to make sense of the scene.

When he got to where he apparently needed to be, he turned and surveyed the land. Seemingly satisfied with his location, he stopped, stepped back two steps and plunged the shovel into the newly manicured sod, leaving it quivering in the ground. He retreated several feet and took in the scene before him. As if visualizing a movie set, he circled the shovel, looking high above it, tilting his head to one side then to the other. After what seemed like several long minutes, he nodded in satisfaction, took his leather work gloves from his back pocket, and pulled them on. He stepped on the head of the shovel and pried up a clump of dirt, discarding it to the side. Too mesmerized by his efficient movements to react, Lorelai watched him repeat this step several times, until he had a small hole dug, and an equal and opposite mound of soil near his feet.

Climbing down the stairs with a bemused look on her face, she said, "So, you have something against my lawn?"

"Hey," he replied, glancing up at her without breaking his rhythm.

"_Hay_, would be okay. But this is _grass_. I gotta tell you, you're freaking me out here, digging to China. It took a long time to get it this green and we're doing the test run tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I have to get this done before it gets dark."

"Okay, I'll take the bait. Get what done?" she asked, trying not to lose her patience.

"You need a tree here."

"We have plenty of trees on the property, a plethora of trees, a panoply of trees."

"You do," he said, stopping to remove his hat, wipe his forehead with the sleeve of his flannel, then replace it. "But you don't have _this_ tree."

"What tree?"

"This one," he gestured with a jut of his chin to the back of his truck. Her eyes followed his and landed on a burlap-covered mound that filled the truck bed.

"What is it, a potato tree?" she quipped, tiptoeing across the lawn in her heels.

He rolled his eyes and resumed digging a few more shovels-full. He stopped shoveling, put the tool down, and walked over to the truck while removing his gloves. He set them on the tailgate before revealing the green foliage hidden under the burlap.

"A maple tree. It's beautiful!" Lorelai's eyes lit up as she gazed upon the glossy pointed leaves. "_Acer saccharum_?" she read from the nursery card that dangled on a twig.

"It's a sugar maple," he said.

"Oh, oh, can I put a tap on it and collect my own sap? I can't believe you brought me my own maple syrup factory!" she said, bouncing with her hands clasped in front of her chest.

"You might get a little hungry waiting around for it to produce enough sap, or _spile_, as they call it in the sugar houses."

"Oh? How long would I have to wait?" she asked. "And 'spile'? Dirty!"

He ignored her latter comment and chose to answer the former. "About forty years. But after that you can tap it ever year for a hundred years without harming it."

"That's a long time."

"Our grandkids could harvest it, I guess," he said.

"_Our_ grandkids?" she blurted before thinking.

"I mean…I didn't mean, you know _our_ grandkids," he stammered, pointing back and forth between himself and Lorelai.

"I know what you mean," she said feeling the blood rise to the surface of her cheeks.

"Uh, good." He nodded, focusing intently on unrolling his sleeves.

"This is so awesome, and so sweet. Literally," she said, still trying to wrap her head around the grandkid comment.

"Sweet all right, but it needs to get into the ground soon," he said as he unbuttoned his shirt. Lorelai tried not to stare as he separated the fabric at his chest and slipped it off his shoulders, revealing a snug, white t-shirt tucked neatly into his jeans.

He draped the flannel carelessly over the side of the truck bed before yanking the tree to the edge of the tailgate, then gently pivoting it to the ground. Lorelai stepped out of his way, unable to keep her eyes from lingering on the muscles that rippled across his back and along his arms. Noticing that he was wearing the belt that she picked out for him, she made a conscious effort to avert her eyes from the taught muscles below it.

"Um, so why do I need _this_ tree?" she asked.

"It works for you."

_Like those jeans are working for me,_ she thought. "Yeah. I have a lot of employees that work for me, too."

"I mean, it works for the _inn_. All summer it will keep the sun off, reducing cooling costs. And in the winter, it looses its leaves, allowing the sun in, lowering your heating costs. That's why we need to plant it right here. Maximum sun exposure in winter and minimum sun exposure in summer," he said, punctuating his words with digs and thrusts.

"You've really thought a lot about this, haven't you?" she said appreciatively.

"Not much, just common sense."

"So why are you planting it so far away from the building, then? It won't shade much from way over here."

"This tree is only a few years old. It could grow 80 feet tall and live for 400 years, although that's pretty rare," he informed her.

"Wow, 400 years, that's like the Methuselah of trees! I can't even imagine what the inn will be like then."

"Yeah, kind of strange when you think about it. We won't be here, but the tree will. So, right now, we're actually rotting the teeth right out of the mouths of future generations," he groused.

"Where's a flying DeLorean when we need one?"

Luke smirked as he continued digging.

"Can I help? I'd like to make a difference."

"I don't think so. You'll ruin your fancy shoes."

"Come on Luke, please? Please? I want to tell the kids that I helped you plant this tree," she said, while holding her hand out, requesting the shovel.

He found it almost impossible to say no to her when she looked at him with those big, doleful, blue eyes. "Okay, but be careful; those aren't the right shoes to be digging holes in," he said as he removed his gloves and handed them to her.

She slipped them easily over her delicate hands, and reveled in their warmth, before taking the shovel with a smile, and a jaunty wiggle of her hips. Spearing it into the ground, she stepped on the shovelhead with her right foot, and it hardly sank an inch. "Oh, wow! Harder than it looks," she said with a surprised smile.

"Don't hurt yourself. I don't want you blaming me for your injuries."

"I won't blame you, but that doesn't mean it's not your fault," she teased him. "Let me try again." She tugged the shovel out of the ground, speared it in with more force, and stepped on it again. It sunk in slightly deeper this time.

"Here, let me hold it steady and you step on it with both feet," Luke said. Moving directly in front of her he planted his feet on either side of the hole and he held onto the handle firmly with both hands, to make sure she wouldn't tip over.

"Are you sure you've got it?" she asked biting her bottom lip.

"I got it."

"Don't let me fall."

"Lorelai, I would never let you fall," he said reassuringly, looking her directly in the eyes.

She looked at him, so close and so steady. She knew he was right. He'd never let her fall. "Okay." She grabbed the handle and stepped up with both feet, putting all her weight on the shovel, and all her trust in Luke. The blade slid down several inches and stopped abruptly. "Whoa!" she gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. She stepped off carefully as he held the handle with one hand and her elbow with the other.

"I've got you. That was good. Now, go ahead and pry up the dirt," he encouraged.

She pushed the handle down and succeeded in lifting about a half cup of soil, which she deposited on the mound next to the hole.

"Do you want to try again?" he asked.

She handed him the shovel and backed several steps away from him. "Nope."

"Had enough already?"

"Yep. It's not as much fun as it looks."

"Says the lady with the attention span of a gnat."

"Hey, I don't have a short attention span for _everything_," she said exposing a slightly defensive nerve.

"Oh, so what _do_ you have a long attention span for?" he challenged her.

"Well," she said, trying to think of something that wasn't dirty, "I can watch the same movie dozens of times and not get bored. _You_ can't do that."

"You got me there. I don't get that multiple-watching concept at all. A movie should be watched from beginning to end. No pausing, no rewinding, and _no talking_." He looked at her sternly. "Maybe discuss it for a few minutes afterward. Then it should be forgotten. Move on. Next time, new movie."

She shook her head in feigned sorrow. "You have so much to learn, Grasshopper."

"Maybe so. But, what are you going to tell the kids, then?"

"You mean about the tree?"

"Yeah, about the tree."

"I'm going to tell them that I helped," she said indignantly.

Luke shook his head, trying to stifle a smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"What? I _did_ help."

"I didn't say anything. I'm glad you helped. Thank you."

"What?" She eyed him suspiciously. "You better not tell them anything."

"What would I say?"

"I don't know, that I didn't help _much_."

"How about we tell them that you kept me company?"

"That's helping, right?"

"Yes. It's a big help." _More than you know_, he thought, taking in her beauty through the corner of his eye.

She looked at him doubtfully, and then her face lit up. "Oh, I know how to really help!" She thrust the gloves at him and called over her shoulder, while bounding up the steps, "I'll be right back!"

He put the gloves back on and watched her run away. When she had disappeared into the inn, he resumed his work. She returned a few minutes later with three beers, two in one hand and one in the other.

"Wow, you're really going to town there! How deep do you have to go?"

"It only needs to be as deep as the root ball, but a lot wider," he said, using the shovel to judge the depth of the hole.

Lorelai handed him a beer. "How do you know all this stuff?" she asked, clearly impressed.

"Thanks," he said, before taking a long, masculine draw. "When your father owns a hardware store, you tend to pick up a few things. I worked there as a teenager, every day after school, and on the weekends."

"But that was hardware, this is gardening."

"Gardening is an extension of hardware. I grew up in a house with a garden."

"Huh." She pondered his words.

"Huh, what?"

"I don't know. I guess I knew you grew up in a house, but I hadn't really pictured you living with a white picket fence and all. It's hard to imagine you living anywhere other than above the diner."

"Well, we had a house. And, we even had a sugar maple in the backyard."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it was beautiful. Every fall it would be a blaze of colors. The leaves would change at different times, so the entire spectrum of autumn colors, from green to red, would show on our tree at the same time. My mother loved that tree. My dad moved her bed over to the window, just so she could look out at it when she was sick. Sometimes she'd watch us play all day if she didn't feel well enough to come outside."

Lorelai wasn't sure if she saw a hint of sadness in his eyes, or whether it was a futile grasp at the fading memory of a mother he lost too soon.

Luke lowered his face, and swallowed slowly. He was taken completely off-guard by the flood of raw emotions that washed over him, threatening to expose his feelings in front of Lorelai. Sensing that he needed a moment to collect himself, Lorelai changed the course of the conversation slightly. "Did you climb it?"

He smiled at the memory, and exhaled deeply. "Yeah, that was the best part about it. The trunk branched out pretty low, so we were able to scamper up. My dad used to call us his little monkeys. We had the best tree house on the block, which is another advantage of your father having a hardware store."

"Cool! Did you have a swing?"

"We did. A tire swing. We had more fun in that tree than you can imagine."

"You're probably right, I can't imagine. I wasn't _allowed_ to play in trees. But I'm going to let my kids play all they want. Rory wasn't much of a climber, but if she wanted to, I would have let her."

"I know you would have," he said thoughtfully. "The house we lived in and the tree are still there, you know."

"They are?"

"They're on Hickory Lane, but I don't own the house anymore. I sold it to a family. They had children and needed a house. I had no use for such a big place, being alone and all. Plus, it didn't feel right to be there without, you know, my folks." He cleared his throat. "I can take you to see it sometime, I mean, so you can see what your tree might look like one day."

Lorelai smiled at his invitation, and said sincerely, "I'd really love that." The thought of Luke taking her somewhere, anywhere, especially to a place that was so personal to him, was extremely appealing to her. She began to wonder when they'd go. If he'd pick her up in his truck or if they'd walk together. She wondered whether they should they wait for the fall to see all the colors, or if they should go soon, while the tree was lush with green fluttering leaves, shimmering at even the slightest hint of a breeze.

Luke went back to work, widening the hole until he was satisfied with its diameter. Pausing to catch his breath, he drank the rest of his beer heartily. He set the empty bottle on his tailgate, then pulled a box cutter from his pocket. Exposing the blade, he prepared the tree for planting by removing the twine from around the burlap. He dragged the tree over to its final planting place and loosened up the root ball by gently rolling the tree back and forth. Lorelai remained safely near the truck, leaning against the tailgate, keeping her shoes clean and her eyes glued on Luke.

"Ok, this is where it's going to be," he stated. "Does this work for you?"

"It's beautiful, Luke. I love it," she said, looking directly into his eyes. He looked away modestly, and turned toward her gift.

"See this branch?" He pointed to a long, horizontal branch jutting out away from the inn. "That's where the swing will go. If we turn the tree this way," he nudged the tree a bit to position it perfectly, "the kids won't interfere with anyone who happens to be on the walkway."

"Will it be a tire swing?"

"Well, probably not. Tires are pretty heavy, and they can get the kids and their clothes dirty. I know you'd hate that."

"I would." She nodded. "So, what kind of swing?"

"In about four years or so, it will be big enough for me to make a plain wooden seat. I was thinking I'd use a single rope and a strong board with two holes in it. It could match the design of the porch railings, and I'd paint it white. They should be able to play on it and have a lot of fun."

"So _you're_ going to make the swing?" She looked at him hopefully.

His neck and face began to flush. He tried to convince himself that it was from the physical exertion. "Well, yeah. Um, if you want me to."

"Yeah, I want you to," she said quietly, noticing the golden flecks in his blue irises before timidly averting her eyes.

She imagined the children laughing and playing. A little girl of three or four was spinning on the swing, her head back and her long curly hair covering her face. Her older brother was pushing her feet gently each time they passed him, as the rope unwound.

Lorelai awoke from her reverie as she sensed Luke moving closer and her breath caught as he closed the space between them. Suddenly, his shoulder was brushing against hers as he leaned into the bed of his truck. Acutely aware of his masculine scent of fresh sweat and antiperspirant, she inhaled deeply, wanting more of it.

"Here, let me grab these bags," he said, as a way of explaining his close proximity. He gripped the first sealed plastic bag of topsoil and dragged it to the end of the open tailgate, where Lorelai was leaning. With a heave, he hoisted it over to the new tree and plopped it down.

When he returned to the truck to retrieve the second bag, Lorelai was expecting him. She contemplated moving out of his way, but found herself riveted to where she stood. Bracing herself for the gentle brush of his arm against hers, she held her breath. And although she expected his touch, she didn't anticipate the rush of nerves, or the pounding of her heart.

For several beats, they remained motionless, all too aware of each other's presence. She heard his deep breathing, smelled his woodsy aroma, and felt the heat radiating off of his body when he paused, with his bare arm leaning against hers. He smelled the hint of perfume that remained after her long workday, mixed with her floral shampoo, conditioner, and the myriad of other products that women use. Hers intermingled seamlessly to emit a sensuous, feminine smell that Luke found so irresistible, he almost forgot why he was standing so close to her. When he moved away with the heavy bag in his arms, Lorelai felt a cool chill sweep over the void that his absence left on her skin.

He wordlessly sliced open a bag of potting soil and poured it around the base of the tree. Then he picked up the shovel again and back-filled the trench. After filling it about halfway, he uncoiled the hose that lay behind the porch trellis and turned on the spigot. Filling the hole with water, he allowed the root ball and the surrounding soil to absorb it. They both watched as the water spilled onto the dirt, causing organic matter to float to the surface in slow, lazy circles. He threw the hose aside, at the base of some bushes, and used the surrounding dirt to finish back-filling, then picked up the hose again and allowed the water to soak deeply into the roots.

Lorelai turned off the water for him and coiled up the hose as he opened the bag of mulch. He spread it over the entire planting site, then smoothed it over with his shovel, making a neat mound ringing the trunk of the Dragonfly's newest resident. He rolled up the plastic, retaining what was left in the bag and tossed it in the back of his truck. When he was satisfied that his job was finished, he paused and watched Lorelai tiptoe out of the flower bed and back over to the truck.

She lifted the unopened beer for him and handed it to him before picking up her own. He nodded a thank you and opened it with a slight hissing sound. They clinked beers as she said softly, "Thank you. It's perfect."

He nodded and shoved his hand in his pocket. She slid her arm affectionately through the crook of his elbow, and leaned her head on his shoulder while they admired the tree. They relaxed for a few minutes in quiet camaraderie, enjoying the warmth they shared.

"You're dirty," she said quietly.

"Normally I'd have to say something slightly inappropriate to be called dirty. But I haven't even said a word," he teased her, before taking another drink.

"Yeah, but literally. You're filthy. Look at yourself."

"I guess I'd better go home. You know, to clean up." He started brushing dirt off the front of his jeans.

"Yeah, I guess so," she reluctantly agreed. "Um, unless…" She looked at him uncertainly. "You want to clean up here? That way you could stay a while. Hang out. We can sit on the porch and watch our tree sway in the breeze."

"Hanging out sounds nice." He nodded between swigs.

She tried to keep her smile from becoming too enthusiastic. "You're coming tomorrow? Right?" she asked.

"Of course."

"Alone?"

"Yes, alone," he answered, more sharply than he intended to.

"Well, I don't know." She shrugged.

"Yes, you _do_ know," he said firmly, holding her gaze.

He was right. She knew, and now he was calling her on it. She had known for a while now. The energy between them had changed. The difference was qualitative and tangible. She wasn't sure how to describe it, but she knew he would be arriving alone. And she was relieved and excited at the prospect.

"Yeah, I guess I do know." She kicked a rock with the toe of her shoe before saying, "Um, since you're already booked, the room is yours now."

"It is?"

"Uh huh, I can show you your room, and you can clean up there. It's going to be yours tomorrow, so you might as well use it, now that you need it. It won't be cleaned again before then, but since you're the only one using it..." her voice trailed off.

"I can live with it not being cleaned again, if it's okay," he said.

"I _own_ the place, and _I_ say it's okay," she said in a slightly haughty tone.

"You enjoyed saying that, didn't you?" His face shot her a rare toothy grin.

"Thoroughly enjoyed it," she said through a radiant smile. She led him toward the inn saying, "Right this way, I'll show you to your room."

"Hold on." He snagged his flannel from the side of the truck then reached into the cab and pulled out a gym bag. "I have some clean sweats in here."

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To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2 Behind Open Doors

**Planting Hope**

**Chapter Two - Behind Open Doors**

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Thank you so much **Jewels!** Even though you were on vacation, you betad this chapter, and as always, made it better! You rock!

And **Lulu**, thanks for the history help on Luke's background for Ch. 1! You are a walking, talking encyclopedia of Gilmore minutia!

~*~*~

Upon entering the inn, Lorelai turned on some lights. He followed her up the stairs as she explained the situation with the doors. "So, hopefully we'll get the guestroom doors in by the time all our friends arrive tomorrow. If not, it will be a complete disaster. The good news, for you anyway, is that the bathroom doors are all in place."

"I can live with just bathroom doors, for now," he said reassuringly. "And don't worry. Tom won't leave you hanging without something as important as doors. It will all work out."

"Thanks, Luke. For everything. The tree, the support, the encouragement, the belief that I can do it, everything," she said earnestly when they reached his room. His eyes remained fixed on a lock of hair that had fallen in front of her shoulders. He found himself touching it, and twirling it absentmindedly.

"It's what friends do," he responded in a raspy whisper.

"Yeah, friends." She stopped talking for a moment, lost in the sensation of him softly tugging her hair. "Um, here's your room," she said, flipping the light switch, "I'm sorry there's no door, but nobody else is here, and I'll leave you alone so you'll have some privacy."

"This is really great," he said, appreciating the décor. "Did you design this by yourself?"

"Oh, yeah, it's all me," she said with self-conscious smile.

"Lorelai, it's beautiful," he said, while soaking in his surroundings. He hadn't seen it with all the finishing touches that she used to make it homey and inviting.

"Now you know why I was shopping so much, with a bag in my hand every time you saw me. I'm not as materialistic as I might appear. Most of it was for the inn."

"I can see that," he said, as his eyes rested on some items that he recognized from her stops at the diner. After shopping excursions, she'd enthusiastically show him her finds. He'd pretend he wasn't interested, but it was just his way of hiding how much he really did care.

"So, I'm going to go downstairs. Holler if you need anything. And come back down when you're clean, dirty boy," she taunted him playfully.

"Thanks," he said, while throwing his bag on an armchair next to the bed.

She left him with a smile and made her way to the kitchen. The entire staff had gone. Sookie's desserts for the following day were already prepared, laid out in the cooler, and waiting only for the last-minute garnishes. Lorelai pulled together a tray with things she knew Luke would eat: bread, cheese and fruit, as well as some of Sookie's strawberry tarts that Lorelai would eat, but Luke probably wouldn't touch. She topped them off with more whipped cream and sprinkles than Sookie would approve of, and carried the tray with her toward the porch.

Passing the linen closet, Lorelai spotted the neatly stacked towels. Without thinking, she grabbed two, set her tray down, and headed up the stairs. On her way up, she could smell the steamy essence of the mint eucalyptus shampoo and soap that the inn had gone over budget on. _Totally worth it_, she thought, inhaling the refreshing, yet calming scents. She stopped at his doorway, and hearing the shower still running, determined that it was safe to deliver the extra towels without bothering her only guest.

She entered, and positioned the towels gingerly next to his gym bag on the armchair. She couldn't help noticing his clothes draped over the back of the chair. She placed a tentative hand on his flannel shirt and soon found herself smoothing her palm over it, marveling at its worn softness. Getting swept away in the moment, she picked it up and held it to her face. Inhaling the familiar masculine smell of Luke, she closed her eyes. The squeaking metal of the shower controls pulled her back to reality. Putting down his shirt, she turned to leave, but found herself unwilling, or unable to move.

She heard him draw the shower curtain, and pull the towel from the towel bar. Her mind scolded her, but her body disobeyed, firmly planting her where she stood. Her breath became shallow, as her pupils dilated in anticipation, barely aware of anything besides her pounding heart as she watched the doorknob turn decisively.

Luke swung open the bathroom door, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and the scent of clean on his skin. If he had been surprised at the sight of her, he didn't show it, aside from the slow dipping of his Adam's apple and the hitch in his breath. He paused mid-stride and their eyes locked. A jolt of electricity flashed between them. _She's in my room. Waiting for me_, he thought, before all other words drifted away from his brain.

Luke took a few large strides and stopped in front of Lorelai. He searched her face for clues and found only desire. She didn't flinch when he swept the hair off of her shoulders, then wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her to him. Her mouth emitted a quiet gasp as he brushed his lips over hers. She not only accepted him, she invited him. Lips parted, her soft warm breath mingled with his, as they kissed each other for the first time. She tasted the sweet aftertaste of his beer. He tasted the fruity flavor of her lip-gloss.

His tongue accepted her invitation and he swept it across her lips, then slid it gently though the part. Her tongue met his, and with a current of energy, they moved closer, sliding and swirling. He pulled away momentarily, only to look into her eyes, which were already heavily longing for more. He drew in a deep breath and buried his hand into the tousled locks behind her head. Pulling her in for a deeper kiss, he slanted his mouth over hers. They slid their tongues sensuously over each other's as their senses were awakened. Lorelai's hand wound its way up to the nape of his neck, where she toyed with the damp curls that sprung there. Her other hand explored his strong, solid chest. She already felt the effects of her kiss, heated and hard, pushing into her belly.

Luke ran his hands down the back of her body and lingered at her backside, pulling her into him, the friction created by the towel satisfied only a fraction of his masculine needs. He raised his hands and smoothed them under her blouse, pausing momentarily at her bra to unclasp it. His lips were still on her, his tongue was still dancing with hers. Both of them were focusing on each twirl as they slowed the kisses to a soft, yet passionate pace that allowed them to catch their breath and enjoy the sweet duel in their mouths. Sliding his hands to the front of her, under her bra, he gently cupped her breasts. Lorelai was overcome with desire and she gasped with pleasure in the hands of his expert touch.

Their kissing soon burned the flame into an inferno. Not willing to let up, and incapable of stopping at this point, Lorelai's hands were all over his body. Exploring his chest, she marveled at the softness of his hair. Feeling the strong muscles in his arms, she kneaded his biceps and smoothed her arms around his body, relishing the rippling muscles of his back by running her hands up and down the deep valley that ran along his spine.

His mouth covered hers as his tongue delved deeper. They concentrated on matching each other's breaths so they could experience all the sensations that bombarded their bodies at once. She marveled at the sensations that his whiskers caused as he kissed her throat and her shoulders. Their bodies were so close that his towel was securely caught between them. Nibbling on her neck and sliding his warm, moist tongue along her jaw line, he felt Lorelai's heated breath on him and heard her low, throaty groans as she tossed away any semblance of sanity.

With the lights on and the door still absent, they continued their explorations without a single thought to their surroundings. Caught up in a passion where only two hearts existed, they melded into each other. Desire overtaking all other senses, Lorelai tugged on the top edge of his towel, stepping away from him and allowing it to pool at their feet. Her eyes followed it down to the floor. When she swept them back up, they followed the strong line of his muscular legs. Resting momentarily to visually drink in her appreciation of his desire, Lorelai involuntarily pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, sucking on it gently.

She was unable to restrain herself from experiencing more than just looking, so she touched him. Lorelai was instantly taken by the heat of him as she smoothed her hands around his hips, feeling his taught muscles as he leaned into her. Pulling her hand around to the front, she wrapped her hand around his shaft and stroked him gently, sliding down and back up. He closed his eyes and let out a low growl as she used her other hand to cup him, and massage him below. He lost himself in the feeling of her hands on him but couldn't continue to endure the pleasure she was bringing him, without reciprocating.

He found himself tearing at her trousers and unzipping them frantically. She let go of him to help wiggle her pants below her knees. She knew only two things at that moment: she needed him now, and she couldn't wait to remove her clothes.

In synchronicity, she pivoted while he pushed her hips clockwise, so that she faced away from him. He pushed her firmly but gently forward to hold onto the bed. She could feel his hot desire, hard and hungry for her, rubbing up against her ass. With both hands on the bed, she leaned over, offering herself up to him. He slid the head of his member along her silky folds. He could feel the heat that radiated from deep within her and how slippery and wet she was.

There was no mistaking her desire for him. He spent only seconds in hesitancy before desire took complete control. She was already growing impatient and restless, whimpering slightly during the interval between opportunity and execution. He positioned himself at her entrance, and grasping onto her hips, he pushed himself into her, amazed at the sensation of her hot, wet walls surrounding him.

She expressed her pleasure by emitting a long, drawn out gasp as she dropped to her elbows, tilting her hips even higher. After filling her completely, he pulled away slowly, then filled her again, and again, each time gaining velocity and power in his thrusts. She began pushing back into him, allowing his strokes to increase in intensity as they merged into a single entity, moving as one. His is eyes traveled down the sinewy line at the small of her arched back, her hair spilling over her shoulders. He had pictured her like this so many times in his fantasies; it was difficult for him to believe this was real.

Sensing the necessity to avert his impending climax, he whispered huskily to her, "Climb on the bed." She lifted one foot, and slid her finger behind the sling-back of her shoe, allowing it to drop soundly to the floor. He helped her peel one leg out of her pants, as she scooted up on the bed and rolled onto her back in the same motion. He removed her other shoe for her, and quickly discarded it before sliding the other pant leg off, panties and all.

Luke stood at the foot of the bed and admired her, taking in her heavily lidded eyes, her wild, tumbling hair, and her look of pure desire. Lying on her back, her hips were churning in subtle, but sensual circles, enticing him back into her depths. "Open your blouse," his gravely voice commanded. She worked the buttons obediently, while pleading for him with her eyes. She rubbed her ankles together, bending one knee, then the other, impatient for him to resume.

He lowered himself onto her carefully as she invited him in. His mouth covered hers as he pushed her bra out of the way and slid his hand along her breast, kneading her softly. He rubbed his thumb across her nipple, causing it to pull into a tight point before he lowered his lips to it. He licked her lightly, and she emitted deep sounds of pleasure, as she arched her back, offering more. He pushed her breasts together and traveled from one nipple to the other, laving and sucking, lightly biting and teasing her until her hips were grinding into his and her hand found him.

His lips went back to hers as she gently guided him inside. She braced herself for the pleasure she was about to endure. He slipped in slowly and gently, almost tentatively, causing her to moan quietly with each increasing thrust. She wanted him, all of him, insider her. Wrapping her legs around him, she pulled him in, insisting on more. He allowed himself full entry, and she gasped at his volume. Doing her best to accommodate it all, she loosened the grip her legs had around him and let him to pull out a little.

She needed to take it in increments, and in her impatience had tried to draw too much, too soon. Instinctively, he shortened his strokes, until he could tell she was prepared for more of him. When she was, she resumed pulling him in with her legs, and he could feel the rhythmic clenching of her interior muscles with each stroke. They held their beat, steady and strong, enjoying the physical pleasures of their flesh. She called out his name, begging for him to continue, her words driving him mad with desire.

Nearing the apex of his pleasure, he knew he had to slow down or lose control. He didn't want to go over the edge alone. He slowed his pace allowing both of them to catch their breath. His long thrusts became shorter strokes, and her legs unhooked and slid sensuously up and down the sides of his.

"I want to see you on top of me," he said, looking into her eyes, waiting for her signal. She nodded. With her help, one hand under her hips, and one at the back of her head, he rolled them both over. With him still inside of her, she lowered her face to his and they enjoyed deep, slow, passionate kisses as they diminished their movements to small swirls of their hips. She kissed, licked, and sucked on his neck, causing him to move deeper into her.

Soon the movement of their hips matched the ministrations of their tongues. Wanting and needing more to fulfill her burgeoning desire, Lorelai began to move forward and back, sliding along him. Craving more and more, she raised herself up, placing her hands on his chest. His eyes took in every inch of her captivating beauty as she tilted her head up and arched her back. With her eyes closed, she concentrated on the heat and intensity of their juncture. He helped her increase the friction by pulling down her hips as he lifted his. It was apparent that she was close to reaching her peak.

He slid his hand to where they were joined and paused at her nub, rubbing in soft slow circles. He felt her interior muscles clenching at she rocked harder, relishing his touch. He increased his pressure and speed to match her accelerated breathing, and wails of passion. Not wanting to miss any of her reactions, he waited for her to reach the threshold first. As she did, he marveled at her luminous skin and the passion that she unabashedly displayed.

She was so free and generous with her expression, just as he imagined she would be. Her walls grew tighter and tighter the closer she got, clamping down on him with each down stroke, increasing his arousal as well. Just when he thought he couldn't hold out any longer, she allowed herself to be taken over the edge. With both hands fondling her own breasts and Luke's nimble fingers still rubbing her nub, she rode each rolling wave of passion as it washed over her center and out through her limbs.

The involuntary twitching of her muscles sent Luke into a freefall. Just as she was finishing her last waves, he couldn't hold out any longer and plunged into her even deeper than he had been. Finally able to open her clenched eyes, Lorelai witnessed his climax. It was his turn to close his eyes as she studied his expressions. Up until his first release, he grimaced and almost looked like he was in pain. After that, his features relaxed and he let out a ragged breath with each emptying thrust.

Both completely spent, Lorelai remained on top of him, so they could quiet their breaths and slow down their hearts. He wrapped his arms around her, and stroked her hair, as they listened only to sounds of their calming recovery. They allowed themselves to lie lazily, with their eyes closed, enjoying the aftermath of an amazing interlude.

Suddenly, the sound of clanging metal and muffled voices drifted up the stairs. They both froze instinctively like forest animals in a thicket. Her eyes widened in fear as they attempted to identify the commotion.

"Sookie!" she gasped, then silently eased herself off the edge of the bed. She padded over to the bathroom with her eyes nervously fixed on the doorless entry, scooping up her clothes and shoes along the way. Before she closed the door, their eyes locked, connected by an arch of energy that passed between them.

When she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she glanced with disdain at the vision in front of her. What a sight. She couldn't help noticing her own judgmental look of disappointment sweeping down her body, stopping at her rumpled blouse, twisted over her unhooked and dislodged bra. Her hair had been tousled to twice its normal full volume. The back of her head was a tangled mess of snarls, which she tried to smooth with her hands. She managed to run her fingers through her mane, and succeeded in bringing back only some of its usual shine.

By the time she re-entered the guestroom, he was already gone, his gym bag filled with his dirty clothes, stashed unobtrusively behind the chair.

~*~*~

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3 Put Through the Wringer

**Planting Hope**

**Chapter 3 – Put Through the Wringer**

~*~*~

Hello all! This was a fun story to write. It had a built in time-line, taking place the day before the test run. I was going to end here, but I think I'll have a few more chapters. Thanks so much for reading.

**Jewels12**, my Canadian friend, I hope like the maple tree! Thank you so much for all of your beta work on this story in general, and this chapter in particular. You really are the greatest!**  
**

~*~*~

Lorelai descended the stairs in a forced casual stride. She could hear Sookie and Jackson bickering impatiently as she neared the kitchen. She exhaled in relief, inferring from their conversation that they hadn't seen nor heard any of the action upstairs. Lorelai picked up the fruit and dessert tray that she left, and stole away into her office for a few minutes. She tucked it behind her computer, figuring she'd deal with it the next day, away from Sookie's curious eyes. Retrieving her purse and keys, she took a deep breath and made her way to the kitchen.

"I told you that you were just worrying over nothing," Jackson said.

"I know, but I still have the feeling that I left something undone," Sookie replied, pacing back and forth, trying in vain to remember what she may have forgotten.

"Aw, come on. The stove is off; the oven is off; the broiler is off. Do you want me to unplug the freezer? Will that make you feel any better?" Jackson asked sarcastically.

"Do you think we should? I mean, electrical fires aren't unheard of, you know?"

"Oh, brother," Jackson said in a voice full of fatigue and exasperation.

"Hey, you crazy kids, what gives?" Lorelai interjected, hoping her cheerful words would hide the guilty feelings she was trying to suppress.

"Oh, hi, Lorelai. I forgot something," Sookie said distractedly. She was wearing a long housecoat and fuzzy slippers.

"What did you forget?" Lorelai asked, skillfully dodging eye contact with either of them.

"I don't know. But I know I forgot _something_."

"For Pete's sake, can we please go home?" Jackson asked. He was wearing a jacket over his pajama shirt that was printed with photos of himself in his wrestling gear. Taking one look at Lorelai's hair and her wrinkled clothes, he asked, "What happened to you?"

"Um," she stuttered, as her hands automatically tried to flatten her unruly hair and smooth her shirt. "Nice jammies, Jackson. Do the pants come with feet? Oh, and I love the tutu!" she deflected.

"It's not a tutu! It's a unitard, the traditional uniform for wrestlers from Stars Hollow High School," he argued. It was almost unsporting of her to lead him off track so easily.

Sookie snapped her fingers and cried, "Now I remember! The flan!"

"What reminds you of flan?" Jackson asked, eager for another topic of discussion.

"_Unitard_, silly," she said with a laugh and a dismissive wave of her hand.

"How is _flan_ like _unitard_?" he had to ask.

"You know. _Unitard_ sounds like _custard_. And flan is a type of custard. But really, it's very specific and it's served upside down."

"So, what about the flan?" Lorelai gently lead her back to the topic.

"Uh…It's gone…no idea…never mind." She clapped her hands together. "I had it, it was this close, then whooop!" Sookie twirled her finger in circles near her ear. "Totally lost it."

"Oh, boy!" Jackson whined.

"Looks like you'll be here for a while. Can you guys lock up for me? I'm not feeling so hot," Lorelai said.

"Oh, Hon, what is it? You actually don't look so good. Looks like you were put through the wringer."

"Yeah, your face is all red, like you have a rash or something," Jackson added. She remembered Luke's thick stubble rasping against her face, adding to her appreciation of his masculine qualities, and her cheeks grew even redder.

"I hope you're not coming down with a fever," Sookie said, her eyebrows drawn together in concern.

"Yeah, you look awful, just awful," Jackson added unnecessarily, while shaking his head. Both Lorelai and Sookie gave him an unfriendly glare. "What?" he asked, looking nervously from one woman to the other.

"Not helping!" Sookie scolded him with a wag of her finger.

"But _you_ can say 'put through the wringer'?" he asked.

"You never tell a lady that she looks awful."

"Even when it's true?"

"Jackson!"

They continued to bicker as Lorelai slipped out the back door.

~*~*~

Luke was busying himself at his truck, folding and refolding the burlap tarp that once covered the maple. His eyes drifted over to the porch expectantly as he rearranged the tools in the back of his truck. He kept closing his tailgate and pretending to check the mechanism until he heard the back door of the inn close quietly. Luke turned eagerly, hoping to catch Lorelai's eyes, but she kept her focus away from him and immediately headed toward her Jeep. He watched her questioningly as she got in, backed up, and drove away without even looking at him.

Luke knew she had seen him, even though she acted like she looked right through him. He wondered if he should follow her, or call her, or maybe she was waiting for him around the corner. He wasn't sure what to do, but the more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that if she had wanted to see him, or talk to him, she would have. He felt an undeniable wave of disappointment at the thought of her leaving without so much as a backward glance.

Luke drove around town, meandering aimlessly in his truck, while his knuckles grew whiter and his jaw clenched tighter. He was going over the scenario in his head, again and again, chastising himself for having the impulse control of an eight-year-old with ADHD. He knew where he would end up; it was inevitable. But he tried to put it off as long as humanly possible.

Jeez, was he so off-base? Could he possibly have mistaken her purpose for being there, outside of his shower? Damn, women were hard enough to read, but Lorelai took the feminine mystique to a level that was undecipherable. Except, he thought, when it came to them being physically intimate; that was another story. She was an open book. Each expression on display, each ounce of pleasure clearly expressed by a gasp or a shudder. She didn't even have to tell him that she was _right there_ with him at climax. The signs were more than evident in her body, the look on her face, the sounds from her mouth. Never before had he experienced a woman so transparent in her ecstasy as Lorelai. Just the thought of her caused his blood to begin surging to his groin.

But what the hell happened? Why did she run away like that? She wouldn't even look him in the eye. He knew he could have been more tender. Damn him for being so impatient. He knew he should have stopped to enjoy her sensuality. Luke never doubted his prowess before, but now he doubted everything. Their merging had been intense and urgent, but he couldn't say it had been quick. In fact, the passion was sustained for much longer than he would have expected.

She was intoxicating, seeming to take him out of his body. At times, he felt like he was floating above them, and observing from the air. Luke needed to see her now. He needed to know what he did wrong, and what he could do to fix it. He needed to tell her.

~*~*~

When she finally entered the sanctuary of her home, she shut the door firmly and threw the bolt decisively. Turing around to lean against the door and regenerate her strength, she put her hands on her knees and inhaled deeply before endeavoring to climb the mountain of stairs ahead of her.

As if the very walls of her house had eyes casting judgment on her, she held her tears in until she made it to the refuge of her shower. There, she allowed the warm, soothing water to pour down her while washing them away.

_What the hell was that?_ she asked herself under the unrelenting torrent. She remembered waiting in his room like some 80's teenage groupie at a Rick Springfield concert and practically throwing herself at him. She wondered why she didn't leave. What possibly possessed her to stay, knowing full well that he was finished showering and the door was opening? She might as well have held still and raised her rump like a white-tailed doe during the rut. He didn't even have a chance to think about it. All that talk about swings and children. He was hinting around at a life together, dipping into the past and delving into the future, and she had to go and screw up the present. Literally.

Her cheeks flushed at the uninhibited behavior she displayed. She cringed at the thought of herself perched atop him like a decoration on a birthday cake, allowing no coherent thoughts to cross her mind, her breasts bouncing, and her body rocking in a frantic rhythm. Completely taken over by desire, she wasn't even concerned about _his_ pleasure. Her body took complete control of her mind with the singular purpose of fusing with him. With _Luke_. She figured that he'd think of her as some crazy sex addict after that display of wanton lust.

She actually imagined that they could love each other, but it was clear to her that love wasn't in the cards for them. How could he love her after that? The evening was amazing, intense, and passionate, but not loving. Not gentle, though it wasn't rough. It could best be described as urgent. What the hell was she going to do next time she saw him? She had no idea. The water continued to beat down on her, washing away none of her misgivings as it rinsed away the soap.

After toweling off and getting into some gray yoga pants and a pink baby tee, she sat on her couch nursing a pint of Chunky Monkey. Under the comforting familiarity of her favorite quilt, she didn't need to turn on the TV; the events of the evening were replaying in her mind on an endless loop. With a paper towel wrapped around the container to keep her fingers from freezing, she scraped the top layer of ice cream into a thin curl, and brought the spoon to her mouth absentmindedly. Every time she thought of him on top of her, inside of her, or kissing her, her stomach did a flip, and she had to shake her head like an Etch-a-Sketch to erase the images from her memory.

She felt the vibration before she heard it. The low rumble of a decades-old Chevy dual-exhaust resonated through the air. When his door slammed, she flinched on the couch. Dreading how angry she imagined him to be for ditching him, she braced herself for the worst. She capped the ice cream and put her spoon down, then she hugged the blankets under her chin and resolved to ignore him when he came to the door.

His knocks were louder than she expected, but more impatient than angry. He waited a few seconds, then he knocked again. It seemed as if his pounding matched the rhythm of her heart.

"Lorelai!" he yelled, his voice carrying an unexpected hint of desperation.

She closed her eyes, wishing he would just go away, not knowing how to face him.

"Damn it, Lorelai!" he said even louder as he rattled the door handle. "I know you're home."

Still wrapped protectively in the blanket, she raised herself, and faced the door. She could see his blurred image through the opaque glass, able to make out his dark, looming silhouette. She couldn't see his expression, but she could see his arms raised as he leaned intently on the doorjambs.

"Come _on_!" He pelted another barrage of raps on the wood surrounding the glass.

Fearing that the whole neighborhood would hear him, she walked over and unlocked the door. As she pulled it toward herself, he followed and was across the threshold instantly. She only had time for a quick intake of air, before he descended upon her. Looking into his eyes, she attempted to decipher his expression and settled upon a compound mood of hurt, anger, confusion, and unexpectedly, lust.

His energy filled the room, occupying every inch of void. It radiated out, reached into her lungs, and drew the air right out of them. His very presence awakened all of the desires that she unveiled so brazenly just over an hour ago.

He stepped toward her using large determined strides. She moved back with small conflicted steps. Lorelai concentrated on inhaling and exhaling, forcing her lungs to expand and contract, while her eyes stayed fixed to his.

"Why?" he asked, searching her face for answers.

"I don't know."

"I waited for you, like some idiot, pacing around, checking the air pressure in my tires, looking for something to keep me busy. Folding and unfolding that friggin' disposable tarp. Wondering and worrying. I waited. You saw me, and you left. Why?"

"I don't know why," she repeated weakly.

"How can you _not know_? God damn it, Lorelai! Why did you run off?"

She could only shake her head, focusing on the lined pattern of the foyer floor.

"Talk to me. Every other time we're together you're jabbering non-stop. But, you pick _now_ to clam up." He ran a trembling hand through his hair. "Was it that bad? Was it so awful that you had to rush home and wash every _trace_ of me off you?" he asked, picking up, then flicking back, a lock of her freshly shampooed hair.

"No, that's not it," she said, stepping back again and tucking the same lock of hair safely behind her ear.

"Then what?" His pleading words wavered slightly. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice dropping to a deep rasp, afraid to hear the answer.

"No," she said, finally meeting his blue eyes with her misty ones. "You didn't hurt me, Luke."

"Did I read you wrong? If that's the case, my god…" his voice trailed off worriedly as his eyes focused on the wall far behind her.

"You didn't read me wrong. I just ruined everything," she said, swallowing with difficulty.

"How did you ruin everything?" She shrugged her shoulders, studying her hands. "Come on, Lorelai, it's _me_ you're talking to."

She took a deep breath and tried again. "I don't know why I was there. You were so open with me. Talking about your tree and your house and the… I couldn't help it. I …I needed you. But that's not all. I thought you… wanted something more from me. Needed me, too. I thought you might someday... But I just ruined everything. How can you ever… after that?" she said, tears ready to spill from her eyes.

"Lorelai, it's okay." He pulled her to him closely, and as soon as his arms wrapped around her, she collapsed into him and released her tears. He hated when a woman cried, especially if the woman was Lorelai. It broke his heart to see her hurting and he usually had no idea what to do to help. But this time he knew. Offering his broad shoulders and strong arms, he finally felt like he was needed, rather than intruding on a private meltdown.

He held her for several minutes, allowing her to let it all out. "Tell me what's wrong, and try to speak English," he said tenderly, bending his knees and holding onto her upper arms so he could see her down-turned face. His gentle ribbing earned him a hint of a smile.

"I don't know how to explain it," she said, her breaths still jagged.

"Just tell me something. I need to know," he implored. His voice was so raw and unguarded that she felt compelled to ease his anxiety.

"That wasn't ... It was everything else," she said, not knowing exactly how to phrase what she felt. "It was…I don't know what it was. But it wasn't _me_. I'm not that woman. I've never done anything like that in my life. And I can't believe I let myself get caught up in you. It's not how I imagined it would be." She exhaled deeply and let out a soft sob. "Luke, I'm..." she started, but was cut short by his stern voice.

"No, don't you say you're sorry!" He thought he knew what she felt, and he felt the same way, but he didn't want her to regret anything. This was way too important.

"But I..."

"Lorelai, please. Don't say it. There are so many things I want to say to you, and so many things I want to hear from you. But 'I'm sorry' is not one of them. I know it was pretty intense and it wasn't as gentle as it should have been. But maybe we just needed to get all that… energy out of the way, out of your systems."

"Yeah, energy," she scoffed through her tears. "I'm sorry, Luke." She felt him tense up, so she put a reassuring hand on his arm. "No, wait. I'm sorry that I didn't wait for you. I'm sorry that I just took off. I was scared and embarrassed, and I thought that you might judge me."

"Judge you how?"

"I acted pretty, um, slutty today," she stammered.

His jaw flexed at the word she chose and his tone grew serious. "Lorelai, do you care about me? I mean, _really_ care about me?"

"You know I do."

"Then you weren't being slutty, as you put it. You were with _me_ and it was incredible. _We_ were incredible. I'm sorry, too, that we were interrupted. I really want to be with you," he reassured her.

"You do?"

"Of course I do.

"Even after I blew it?"

"You didn't blow anything."

"Dirty," she said, before sniffing.

"See, there's the Lorelai that I know and lo…" he hesitated, before wiping her tears with his thumb. "Come on," he said, pulling her toward the stairs.

"Where?"

"We're going upstairs."

"Uh, okay. But, I need to put the ice cream away first," she said, unsteadily, removing the paper towel from it and using it to finish drying her eyes.

"You can bring it up if you want to."

"So you're saying that I can bring Ben and Jerry up with us? You are a naughty, naughty boy," she teased, feeling a little foolish for crying and needing to lighten the mood.

"It's not like that. We didn't get to finish."

"Uh, I'm not sure if you were in the same room as I was, but, I finished. Boy, did I finish! It was a great, big, fabulous finish," she extolled dramatically.

He stopped a few stairs above her, turned around to look at her, and said quietly, "I know. You were absolutely beautiful."

Taken aback by the change in his voice to a sensuous husky timber, she said, "Um, we don't need any ice cream for this, do we?" He shook his head slowly. "I'll be right up." She hurried to the freezer to stash the dessert. When she returned, he was sill waiting for her on the same step with his hand extended.

"Come on, we were interrupted and we have a really important part to make up."

She accepted his hand and was immediately stricken by how comforting it was. This simple gesture was so warm and intimate. They both looked down at their hands, then up at each other's eyes. "I thought we just discussed the most important part," she said, half-teasingly.

"Nope. That was a very important part, but not the _only_ important part," he said, leading the way.

"But my room is a mess," she protested as they scaled the stairs.

"Your room is always a mess."

"That's true, but so not the point."

When they entered her bedroom, they glanced around. There were some clothes on the bed and some shoes lying around, but all in all it wasn't too bad. "So, Rory?" he asked.

"Won't be here until tomorrow," she said. He locked the door anyway and they both laughed at their newly found appreciation of a functioning door. He went directly to the bed and began to fling pillows off it, piling them next to the nightstand.

"Hey, wait! I need pillows. I crave pillows, I love pillows, lots and lots of squishy pillows," she protested.

"Pick the one you want; we're going to share it."

"But, I can't _share_ a pillow, I need my own!"

"Not right now you don't," he said, continuing to rid the bed of all the cushions with tassels, embroidery, or other embellishments.

Finding a loophole in his request, she grabbed the longest one she had, a full body pillow with a luxurious Egyptian cotton case, and tossed it so that it spanned the entire head of the queen bed.

"I can see that this might be the argument that we're going to have for the rest of our relationship. If so, I give up now," he said through a soft chuckle.

"Give up on _us_, or the pillows?" she asked, her stomach dropping.

He toed off his shoes and said, "The pillows, Lorelai. I can't give up on us. We haven't driven each other completely bonkers yet." He plopped down on his back in the middle of the bed. "Come here," he said huskily. He held out his arm for her to rest her head on, which she did, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her and kissed her temple.

They both relaxed into each other and sighed in contentment, snuggling comfortably for several minutes. "This is the part we missed," he said, his voice low and relaxed.

"You're right, this _is_ important. Very, very important," she said, feeling sentiment stinging her eyes again. He hugged her tighter and kissed all the parts of her face that he could reach, her forehead, her temple, her cheekbone, and her eyelid. They were tender little kisses, each softer than the last. "You never told me that you were so affectionate," she purred, relishing the attention he was pouring on her.

"I didn't know that I was," he said sincerely.

"But you are, and so cuddly." She snuggled even deeper next to his warm body.

"I'm _not_ cuddly."

"Yes you are, a big snuggly, huggly, cuddly Luke."

"Oh, brother," he groused. "So, how was your day?"

"How was my day?" She laughed. "Are you trying to change the subject on me?"

"Something like that, yeah," he said, his fingers intertwined with hers, resting on his chest.

"Okay, my day," she said. "It was frantic. We had deliveries and last minute decisions and emergencies." He nodded his understanding. She could tell that he was really listening to her so she continued, "If I had known I'd have to put out so many fires, I'd have joined the National Forest Service. Everything is another decision. It was nerve-wracking and I've never worked so hard in my life, but I've never had so much fun either."

"Lorelai, I hope you know how proud I am, and everyone is, of you," he said before asking nonchalantly, "Anything else happened today?"

"Nope. Nothing at all," she said, managing to keep her face straight for about half a breath before she allowed a giggle to escape.

"So, nothing new, huh?"

"I did have an interesting guest. The man that I… my dear friend came over to surprise me." He smiled as she spoke about him. "He brought me the most beautiful, thoughtful gift."

"Yeah, what was it?"

"It was the perfect gift for the inn: a sugar maple," she said, playing along.

"That sounds kind of lame, if you ask me."

"Lame? No way. You just have to look deeper into the meaning of the tree," she said. They opened their hands and rested them palm to palm, fingers splayed.

"So, what's the meaning of the tree?" he asked, pressing her hand back with his.

"I think he wants to reduce my energy costs," she teased, smiling as she pushed back against his hand.

Her fingers offered resistance as he bent them back a little, stretching them gently. "Yeah, that must be it."

"He may have been saying some other things, too," she said coyly, as she flexed his hand in return.

"What could he have been saying, this 'dear friend' of yours? He sounds like a loser, if you ask me."

"He's not a loser, he's a wonderful man."

"But he's just a friend?"

"No, he's not _just_ a friend. He's my _best_ friend."

"Oh," he said, focusing on the far wall, allowing their hands to drop down and rest on his stomach.

She noticed his jaw flexing and added, "He was until today, anyway. Then he brought that tree and everything got complicated."

"Does it have to be complicated?"

"I'm not sure," she replied nervously.

"Maybe it's simple."

"I wouldn't know, he hasn't told me how he's feeling."

"Maybe he thinks it's too soon to tell you how he feels."

"Yeah, maybe it's too soon. Maybe not. That's how it is with a word like maybe," she said searching his face for emotions.

"That could be why he brought the tree. You know, to let his actions speak for him."

"Yeah, that could be why." Lorelai nodded.

He rolled onto his side to face her. "Do you think it means anything else?"

"You tell me." She looked straight at him.

"Could it mean that he wants to be there for you?" Luke asked, laying a warm hand on her hip, his fingertips lightly grazing the sliver of bare skin beneath her tee.

"I hope so," she said, acutely aware of his sensual touch.

He moved his face closer to hers, and nuzzled into her neck, breathing in the sweet fragrance of her hair. "What if it means that he wants your relationship to grow?"

"It could mean that," she said, as he carefully moved her hair, and began kissing her neck. Goosebumps instantly riddled her chest and shoulder as she rolled over on her back, allowing him better access to the soft flesh of her throat. "Or it could just mean that he wants me to have a tree."

"It could mean that he loves you," Luke said, holding her gaze intently.

"Is that what it means?" she asked, swallowing slowly, not able to tear her eyes from his, while she waited for his answer.

"What if it means he wants to be the one to make the swing for your kids, because they're his kids too?" he said, as he moved in closer and kissed her softly on the lips.

"Luke," she sighed, her voice soft and hopeful. She closed her eyes and offered her lips to his. He covered her mouth with his as she let out a gentle gasp.

"Would that scare you, if that's what it means?" he asked between kisses.

"If that's what he means, then he should just tell me," she whispered, blinking away the emotion from her eyes.

"I love you, Lorelai. I always have."

"Yeah?" she breathed.

"Yeah. What do you think of that?"

"I think we're going to have the best tree house on the block."

~*~*~

TBC


	4. Chapter 4 Don't Even Go There

**Planting Hope**

**Chapter 4 - Don't Even Go There**

**~*~*~**

A/N: I decided that I wanted to continue this story, so I did. I added a little more smut. Lorelai made herself readily available in Ch. 2, so I wanted Luke to have something to work for! It's fiction, okay? We can do that here! And this is what happened**. **

**~*~*~**

Thanks **Jewels** for all your hard work and for your awesome beta skills. You really are special. Everyone loves you, and so do I!

~*~*~

"So, what kind of tree house do you have in mind?" Luke asked Lorelai as they remained cuddling on her bed. His arms were wrapped around her as she caressed the taught skin of his torso under his clean, worn t-shirt. Her leg was drawn up with a bent knee, resting on his sweatpant covered legs.

"Something simple. Along the lines of the Swiss Family Robinson's at the Magic Kingdom," she teased.

"Yeah, I'll get right on it," he said, not moving a muscle, relishing the feel of her soft hand on his skin.

"I'm really glad we came up here. This was a good idea," she sighed contentedly.

"Yeah, so am I," he said, moving her hair off of her neck softly. "I have some other ideas, too." He shifted his weight so that he was resting most of it on one elbow and leaning over her. Once he had better access, he began trailing kisses along her jawline.

She exposed her throat, offering more of her smooth, white skin and said, "I think I'm going to like this idea of yours."

"Oh, you'll love it," he growled. He clasped her hands above her head and blazed a trail of kisses and nibbles along the sensitive skin of her arms, and lingered at the crook of her elbows, where he raked his teeth gently across her eager flesh. He moved again so that his strong body covered her lithe figure. They instinctively arranged their legs so that he rested his between hers, allowing his growing desire to press into her inner thigh.

His eyes were locked onto hers as he slid one hand down her arm then smoothed rest on her breast. He kneaded it and marveled at its softness cloaked in the tissue-thin cotton of her shirt. "You're not wearing a bra," he breathed, his voice husky and deep.

"No, I didn't know I'd have company," she said, before turning her mouth to his. Their lips met with a tangible spark of energy. She parted hers in invitation. He accepted. With short strokes of his tongue, probing and searching for hers, he explored her mouth. His tongue moved in large, slow circles and she followed suit. She found his mouth relaxed, sensual, and patient. He found hers soft, eager, and accepting. They angled their faces to deepen the kiss, and relished the taste of each other, parting only to breathe in deeply enough to sustain themselves through another earth-shattering kiss.

As their passion increased, she wound her arms around his neck and toyed with the curls at the nape. He lowered his face to kiss her breasts through her semi-sheer fabric. He found them ripe and inviting, and flicked his tongue over the fabric. She let out a soft gasp. He licked again, causing her nipple to peak and the fabric to cling to it. As he laved her through the material, it became transparent. She held his head to her, arching her back, craving more of the rough sensations of his tongue on her sensitive beads.

He didn't need much more coaxing to migrate lower and to lift her shirt as he went. He plastered wet kisses, punctuated with languid strokes of his tongue, as if it were a paintbrush and he were an artist creating a masterpiece of a summer sunset. She was lost in the passion, caught up in all the pleasure that he was bestowing upon her. He was moving so fast and touching so many places, that she couldn't think, she could only feel.

And feel she did. She was lost in the sensations that bombarded her nerve endings, relishing the skin on skin contact. His heat combined with hers as his mouth continued its path down her body. He tugged on her thin yoga pants and exposed one side where he found her hipbone begging to be caressed. She writhed in pleasure under his ministrations that sent shivers though her body. His palm cupped her warm, damp mound and his thumb traced firm circles over her center.

Covering the center seam of her pants with his mouth, he blew hot air onto her already scalding sex and breathed in her moist fragrance of desire. His mouth watered at the anticipation of his first taste of her. He longed to slide his tongue along her folds, and pleasure her orally until she called his name and begged for him to stop. In their all-consuming passion earlier today, they hadn't worked that activity into their lovemaking. Now he ached to make up for it.

"Take your shirt off," she whispered, her voice urgent as she pulled up on the material nearly tearing it off his back. He lifted his torso and peeled it off, discarding it on the floor. She sat up and threaded her fingers through the fine hairs that peppered his chest and rubbed her palms over his flat discs. Before long, they were face to face again. Engaging in one deep, crushing kiss after another. Her hands had migrated around his body, and she raked her fingernails across his shoulder blades leaving bright pink stripes in their wake. He closed his eyes and let out groan of pleasure from deep in his throat. She felt his desire surge and his member grow even harder as he ground into her, their hips gyrating, craving more friction.

He lifted the hem of her shirt and made short work of peeling it off her body. She felt the cooler air hitting her skin, which contrasted with the heat that radiated off of his, as she smoothed her hands down his body and felt the taught muscles of his back ripple beneath her touch. She pushed her hands under the band of his sweats and rubbed his ass, grabbing a handful of each side. He was round and firm under her touch. She pushed the fleece as low as her hands could from her position, until they rested just below his hips. When she whimpered in frustration, Luke smiled and lifted himself so that she could release his drawstring with a quick tug and push his pants slightly lower.

Luke trailed his fingers gently along Lorelai's stomach, and she giggled softly at the tickling sensation of his fingertips. When he reached the top of her thin pants, he smoothed his hands over her sides and stealthily caressed her hips and thighs as he kissed her deeply. Her hips moved in time with the ministrations of their tongues and she wasn't entirely conscious of his hand adding to the warmth at the apex of her legs.

He sat up on his knees and rocked back, pulling on the top of her pants. She lifted her hips in consent as he peeled them down, revealing underpants made of nothing more than a pink lacy triangle of fabric held together by a few thin ribbons. His breath hitched at the sight of her pale, luminous skin, contrasted with the dark coarse hair that was evident under the sheer fabric. He tore his eyes away from her center, thinking that he'd be back to admire her up close and personally, as soon as he removed the material that covered her long, thin legs.

Starting at the instep of her foot, he planted wet, slippery kisses up to her anklebone. Lorelai allowed her head to fall back, as she exhaled deeply, expressing the unexpected pleasure of his tongue and teeth on her sensitive flesh. He worked his way up her limbs, massaging and caressing her calves and planting more kisses on the insides of her knees, first one leg then the other. She shuddered under his touch, as her breathing became labored and shallow.

He methodically headed for his target, enjoying every inch of her along the way. Trailing a silky tongue the length of her thigh, he inadvertently rubbed his whiskers along the same skin. The sensations sent her hips bucking.

From his position between her legs, he looked up at her and marveled at her beauty. He touched the triangle of lace and ran his fingers along the outline. She stilled under his touch, as if studying his every move. He could feel her desire soaking the material that separated him from her most private flesh.

Luke cast the flimsy material aside and peered at the glistening pink flesh before him. He slid his finger along her folds and she arched her back and pushed herself into his touch. He circled her sensitive nub several times, then lightly brushed his fingers directly on it, causing her to take a deep breath and hold it in. She let it out in an audible groan as he inserted, first one finger, then another into her hot, wet center. Her muscles clamped around his fingers while he pressed in and out of her in a slow, steady rhythm and his thumb stroked her sensitive nub in sensuous circles.

Lorelai's legs were beginning to quiver and she grasped the bedspread on either side of her. Luke knew she was getting close, but he had other plans for bringing her to climax. He wanted to be closer and more intimate, with her pulsating under his mouth, his tongue alternately buried deep inside her, and circling her pleasure hub, as he brought her to the height of ecstasy.

He paused to remove her panties and bury his face in the apex of her legs, unimpeded by the lingerie. Lorelai watched him as he stripped them off her body. She aided him by bending her knees, then kicking the panties off her feet. His hand went to his mouth automatically, and he savored her taste. Lorelai's eyes traveled down his strong, muscular torso and rested on the obvious tenting in his sweats.

She rose up on her knees to meet him and they embraced, kissing hungrily. "You're still not naked," she purred, while sliding her hands down his sides, taking the loose, worn sweats with her. As she slid them down, he pushed them below his knees and rid himself of them, before turning his attention back to Lorelai and the full body contact that he craved.

She reached for his hot, hard shaft and stroked him gently. He closed his eyes and let out a deep, resonating growl. She wrapped her hand around him firmly, then gripped slightly as she stroked him from base to tip with one hand and cupped him gently with the other hand. She marveled at the amount of heat that radiated from the blood vessels that had him swelled to an almost painful erection.

Lorelai poured herself into another kiss, giving Luke all that she had, while continuing to stroke the length of him. When they parted, her face blazed a trail down his body to meet her hands, pausing only to add teasing nips along the way. She hovered with her mouth close to his head, breathing in the masculine scent of musk and the fresh scent of the Dragonfly Inn soap. With a flick of her tongue, she tasted the sweet droplets that waited for her like pearls, resting at the very tip of him.

After one taste of the precious fluid, she lost interest in teasing him and took him into her mouth with unprecedented fervor. She moved her head down, humming hungrily as she sucked and stroked his entire length. His body tensed and his muscles rippled as he fought to control the climax that threatened to burst out of him at the first contact of her warm mouth. She pushed him down gently and he didn't resist. Lying on his back, with Lorelai working him over from between his legs, he marveled at how perfect her touch was. She knew exactly the right pressure, and exactly the right places to touch him. As if reading his mind, her rhythm flowed over him and he couldn't tell where her mouth ended and her hands began. Whatever she was doing to him was seamlessly smooth and sinfully hot. He knew he couldn't hold out much longer but he didn't want it to be over yet.

"Swing your legs up here," he pleaded. "I want to taste you." His words had no effect on her actions, and she continued with her mission. After several more strokes, he knew he couldn't hold off. "Lorelai, please." He grasped her by the shoulders and tugged on her. She followed his lead, slid up breathlessly, and buried her face in his neck until she could catch her breath, and he could lower his arousal to a controllable level.

"I want to taste you so badly," he said, his voice tinged with raw desire.

She shook her head. "I need you inside me now." He thought he could detect a trace of anxiety in her voice. But, the thought floated away as she moved swiftly and straddled his hips. Her long legs easily allowed her knees to reach the bed on either side of him. She lowered herself on his shaft, allowing him to bury himself deeply inside her. She couldn't remember a time when she had ever felt so complete.

Once again, Luke was taken by her striking beauty and the heat that emanated from within her body. She was so wet that he slid in and out of her easily, but still, she gripped him so tightly that he was already beginning to lose control. He couldn't continue with her tempo and had to take charge or lose it completely. He'd be damned if he let that happen when she hadn't climaxed yet. 'Ladies first' had always been his motto, and there was no way in hell he'd abandon that philosophy while making love with Lorelai.

He tapped on one of her knees, signaling for her straighten it. She read his sign and she did before they rolled over. They stopped when Luke was on top, most of his weight distributed on his arms above her shoulders. The break in momentum gave him the distraction necessary to regain control.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered to her. She smiled up at him and kissed him softly.

He made love to her slowly and tenderly, allowing her passion to build again. His kisses grew more fervent as he lengthened his strokes and felt her sex gripping him tighter and tighter the closer she was to reaching climax. And, although she didn't need to tell him, she began to chant his name and narrate her pleasure. Her words drove him wild, then drove him to the edge.

"Let go, Lorelai," he urged.

She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him in deeper and deeper. Her hips met his stroke for stroke. Together they rattled the headboard against the wall until a thin sheen of sweat glistened on their skin. She climbed higher and higher, her pleasure growing with each thrust, until finally, she shattered into a thousand pieces, sensations radiating from her center to her extremities in short bursts of energy.

Luke felt her interior muscle convulse around him. "Oh, God, Lorelai," he groaned, allowing himself to finally let go as well, emptying himself into her, his thrusts punctuated with ragged breaths.

They lay together, spent and fulfilled. She wrapped her arms around him, as he kissed her face lightly. Staring into each other's eyes, they remained connected for as long as possible.

"Here, let me move so I don't squish you," Luke said, doing his best to lift his own dead weight off of her and collapsing right next to her.

She whined, "But, I like you to squish me. Just make sure you squish all the good parts."

"All your parts are good. Some are just better than others," he said, pulling her in closer for a long, affectionate hug.

They separated a little, to allow their body temperatures and breathing rates to drop.

After a while, Lorelai excused herself to go to the bathroom. While she was gone, Luke folded down all the blankets and covered himself with just the sheet. When she returned, she crawled under the sheet and they lay facing each other on their sides in a warm embrace.

"Are you sure that was all right for you?" he asked, tentatively.

She snuggled closer, "It was more than all right. It was fantastic. Why?" She pulled back to look into his eyes.

"You didn't want me to kiss you down there?" he asked.

"I didn't say that," she said.

"You didn't _verbally_ say it, but I tried to at least three times, and at least three times you called a time out on me."

"I did?" she asked, genuinely surprised.

"Um, yes." He looked directly at her. "Don't you want me to do that?"

"I really didn't realize I was stopping you. But, no." She shook her head, wrinkled her nose, and gave him an apologetic half-smile.

"No, you don't want me to?" He raised his eyebrows in question.

"No, I don't want you to."

Luke rolled over, flopped on his back, and exhaled deeply. Could she really not want him to pleasure her that way? Was this the same woman who waited outside of his shower to make love to him without so much as uttering one word? The same woman who called his name and rattled the headboard? The same woman who didn't have one modest bone in her body while they were making love?

Lorelai thought she detected a hint of disappointment when he asked, "Really?"

"Really." She lifted herself on one elbow to look at his face. "Are you mad?"

He studied the pattern of shadows cast on the plastered ceiling and said, "Of course I'm not mad, but can I ask why you don't like it?"

"I didn't say I don't like it. I said I don't want you to."

He took a deep breath, then scooted up to lean against the headboard. "I don't understand. You like it. I want to do it. But you don't want me to." Suddenly he had flashbacks of high school when he tried to convince his girlfriend of three months to allow him to touch her breasts for the first time.

"It's okay, really. I don't need it. And I don't want you to feel like you have to."

"What do you mean, feel like I _have to_?"

"I don't want you to feel obligated," she said, joining him against the headboard.

"Obligated?" He looked utterly confused.

"I just don't like the way it makes me feel." She tugged on the sheet, pulling it up to her chin.

"I don't even know how to respond to all this." He ran his hand through his hair. "You don't like the way it feels? What kind of men have you been dating?"

"No, I like how _it_ feels. I just don't like how_ I_ feel," she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't want us to have that whole weird scenario that goes with it."

"What scenario?"

"The one where you go down there and I feel guilty because of it."

He narrowed his eyes, trying to make sense of it all. "Tell me about this guilt."

"Okay, but it's a girl thing. Are you sure you're ready?"

"Shoot." He leaned forward with his arms on his knees, waiting for her explanation.

Unprepared to speak so intimately while Luke's eyes were absorbing every gesture and nuance of her expression, she blushed furiously. "I don't want to have you go, you know, down there, because I'll probably really enjoy it, and I might even get _close_. But, then I'll start worrying that you might not like… um, the way I taste, or something… and then you might want to stop doing it, and you might not let me finish. Or worse, you might stay there because you feel like you have to, but I'll worry about you, and whether you're getting tired, or your neck hurts, or you can't breathe, or you're bored, or whatever, and so I take too long. And then, because I'm taking so long, you stop before I'm done. And maybe you'll decide that it's too much work and you don't ever want to do it again. So it's best if we just skip it altogether."

Luke let out a slow stream of air. "So you're saying you don't want me _not_ to want to do it again, so you're not going to let me do it in the first place?"

"Exactly!"

"That's crazy."

"Maybe, but you love me anyway, right?" she asked, looking over at him with wide, vulnerable eyes.

"Yes, I love you," he reassured her, as he moved a wisp of hair away from her face. "But, it still makes me wonder what kind of men you've been dating to make you feel like that."

She looked up at Luke, wanting to explain, maybe even to defend her experiences. "Christopher and I were just kids, and it didn't even occur to us to try that. And the few times we got back together, when we were older, we had, strangely enough, platonic sex."

He tried not to allow any indication of judgement to pass his lips regarding Rory's father. But, if he were being honest, he'd have to admit that he was relieved to learn that Christopher was, in Luke's mind anyway, a selfish bastard in bed.

"Platonic sex is an oxymoron," Luke huffed.

"Brilliant, Luke!" she taunted. "Hey, another oxymoron!"

"You're nuts, Lorelai! Oh, wait! That's a redundancy," he countered. They both broke the tension by laughing heartily.

"What about that sap you almost married. The one with the damned flowers all over the place?" he asked, in spite of his visceral aversion to knowledge of her past relationships.

"Max? Well, Max was a _literature teacher_, if that tells you anything," she giggled. Luke let out an involuntary smirk of his own.

She didn't add that she thought that Max had probably learned about oral sex from reading a textbook. He followed the directions very precisely, though, she had to give him that. But, she wasn't proud to admit that she had actually faked it with him a few times. It was so difficult to let go when he kept stopping to ask, "Did you climax? Did you climax?" She figured, since he couldn't tell, then what difference did it make anyway?

She looked over at Luke who seemed to be processing this information admirably and added, "I'm sorry, butyou asked."

"That I did." Luke's jaw was set in smug disbelief. He knew after this conversation that he'd never be jealous of that Poindexter again.

"And Jason, well, let's just say that Jason was a germaphobe and leave it at that." He was surprised that she didn't have anything more to say about Jason, since he was the most recent. "There's really no one else worth mentioning."

"Wow!" he said, staring at her in disbelief.

"Wow what?"

"Um, not sure where to begin." He sat, pondering what she said. He took her hand and kissed it. "Hey, if you're not comfortable, then I won't push it. Okay?" he said sincerely.

She nodded.

"Someday you'll trust me enough. I hope."

"I trust you," she said emphatically.

"I know you do, Lorelai. But this is different," he said pensively, before moving away the hair that was in her eyes and kissing her again.

"Luke," she asked shyly, "um… do you actually _like_ doing that?"

He looked her squarely in the eye. "I'd love to do it to you."

"You don't know that. What if…" her voice trailed off.

"There are no 'what if's' Lorelai. Please stop worrying. But, will you promise me one thing?" Luke asked.

She swallowed, then nodded her head.

"If you ever want me to do that, you'll let me know."

"I'll let you know; I promise."

~*~*~

TBC


	5. Chapter 5 Potroast with a Germaphobe

**Planting Hope**

**Chapter 5 – Pot Roast with the Germaphobe**

**~*~*~**

A/N: Thank you **Jewels12** for betaing yet another chapter for me! Your enthusiasm for life and for fanfiction is unwavering. My finished product is so much better with your help. Thank you, Spooly.

And thank you,** LoriD**, for having faith in my writing, especially when my confidence is waning. You helped get the guts to put this out there. Thanks so much.

**~*~*~  
**

Lorelai stood with the walkie-talkie attached to her ear, chewing on her thumbnail, as she continued the same conversation that she had been having with her contractor for two weeks. Attempting to keep her voice modulated, she asked again, "Tom, where are my doors? They were supposed to be here by now."

His voice scratched through the walkie-talkie, "Yeah, I know. They took a wrong turn and headed to Woodbridge."

"What?" She stomped her foot in frustration.

"Relax, I'm trying to track them down," the walkie-talkie crackled.

"Um, Tom, guests are showing up here any second. They have no doors. People will have to get very friendly, very quickly," she said, trying not to panic.

"I got the guy on the phone. I'll get right back to you."

"Gah!" She glared at the silent two-way radio in her hand.

Suddenly, the radio rasped back to life, and Michel's thick French accent heralded through, "The guests are arriving. I repeat; the guests are arriving."

Lorelai implored, "No, Michel, we still don't have doors. Is there anything you can do to stall them?"

"No. I'm bringing them up now," he insisted. Lorelai took a deep breath and panned the lobby. She wondered how long it would take her to find, purchase, and hang curtain rods and curtains across all the doorways. Or maybe they could use plywood; it would offer a little more privacy than the drapes would.

Suddenly, through the two-way, Tom's voice calmly stated, "I got 'em."

"Doors? You got the doors?"

"They're on their way up. My guys will be standing by to get them on."

"Tom, I'm loving you like a two dollar whore."

"Terrific. I'll tell the wife," he deadpanned before they disconnected.

Lorelai took a deep, calming breath and turned to find Luke's questioning eyes staring right at her. She kept hers fixed on his, and tried to suppress the smile that was growing just for him, as she announced, "Okay. Everybody, the doors are on the way, guests are coming. Everybody outside to greet them. It's show time. Let's go! Okay, everyone, remember, these people are not our friends. They are customers. Just relax, don't rush, and don't kill anybody."

Sookie led the procession of employees to wait on the porch and squealed, "Here they come!" She pointed to the golf carts that were winding their way slowly up the drive.

Luke and Lorelai maintained eye contact as they walked toward each other. The sound of Lorelai's heels resonated off the highly polished floor. "Hey, hi. You're here," she said softly.

"I'm here." He stopped directly in front of her, beside the reception desk.

"Uh, disregard anything you may have heard me say up to this point."

"Like?" He lifted a questioning, teasing eyebrow.

"Like, uh, if you heard me say something that sounded like 'a two dollar whore,' that's not what I said at all. I may have said, 'a new parlor door'."

"Uh huh." He tugged on the tie of her chocolate brown wrap sweater and she took a step closer.

"Or, maybe it was a 'blue collar boar'." She rested her hand on his.

"Right." He took her other hand.

She stepped even closer and breathed in his familiar, masculine scent. "Or, maybe it was a 'glue holler store'."

"What the hell is a 'glue holler store'?" he asked, squeezing both her hands gently in his.

She shook her head and raised her eyebrows slightly. "I have no idea."

He gave her a half smile. "I think I'll just take you up on disregarding it."

"Good idea," Lorelai repeating shyly. "So, hi." She licked her lips before glancing across the room to confirm that they were alone, but she could see the employees waiting on the porch through the sheer curtains of the front windows.

They were close enough for him to breathe in the sweet smell of her hair. Just a few more tantalizing inches, and he would be able to taste the fruit-flavored lip gloss that she wore.

"Hi.," he whispered, staring at her lips. "So, you didn't change your mind? About us?"

"Nope." She smiled at him. "Did you?"

"Not a chance."

"Good. I'm glad."

"I'm glad, too."

"We're both glad. But now I have to get to work," she apologized, gesturing toward the front door.

"Right, go, go. I'll be here."

"Oh, let me give you your key. That way you won't have to wait. Although, truthfully, there isn't a door yet, so the key is irrelevant, because without a door there is no lock, and without a lock, there's no need for a key." She ducked behind the front desk and handed it to him. "The doors will be here tonight. I promise. Here you go, lucky number seven." They allowed their hands to linger on the key for a few heartbeats.

"_Very_ lucky number seven," he agreed.

"I think you know where the room is," she said, finding it extremely difficult to escape from the power of his gravitational pull.

"I know where it is." He gave her an intimate smile.

"We'll spend some time together later. Okay?"

"Later. _Definitely_." He nodded.

He stood flipping the key over and over in his hand and watched admiringly as she walked out the door. "Hey, Lorelai!" She stopped at the door and looked over her shoulder at him. "Good luck," he said sincerely. Her radiant smile accompanied her outside, where she greeted the guests.

"Hi, everyone. Welcome to the Dragonfly Inn!"

~*~*~

So far, the test run had been progressing better than expected. The guests were kind, yet honest in their feedback. Even Taylor, the town nit-picker, who had used up more ink than a fleeing squid to fill out dozens of his own personal comment cards, didn't have anything glaring to harp on. In fact, Lorelai read some of his comments, and most of them were complimentary in an odd sort of way. Surprisingly, his critical statements were mostly constructive. He was, after all, a businessman.

Although it was going well, it wasn't perfect. There were hitches, but that was the whole reason behind having a test run. Dinner was going great. The only complaint from Sookie was that he kitchen staff was highly efficient, friendly, and professional. Bottom line, according to Sookie: the staff was _too_ good. So, if that were their only problem, then tonight would be smooth sailing.

She was jubilant that Luke was there. She never doubted he'd show, lending her support like he always had. But now everything had changed. They had taken the leap and crossed the line from friends to lovers. It was frightening, exciting, and amazing. Every time she thought about him kissing her, touching her, or whispering in her ear, her stomach fluttered. The effect was magnified by the fact that she hadn't been able to eat a thing all day just thinking about him. She couldn't believe that after all these years she and Luke were so right together. It was their sweet, delectable secret for now, and that's how she wanted to keep it.

This night was going so smoothly, that she finally allowed herself to exhale, take a step back, and appreciate the guests enjoying themselves. Lorelai kept slipping into reverie, imagining closing time. In a few hours, she and Luke could relax together on the porch, and finally get a chance to sit and admire the tree that he planted for her. Maybe they'd even be able steal some time alone in his guestroom. Just the possibility of it caused her face to flush in anticipation.

Luke watched in admiration as she worked the crowd. She moved gracefully from table to table, chatting effortlessly with everyone, bringing light and laughter to each conversation. The kitchen may have been Sookie's, the front desk may have been Michel's, but the Dragonfly Inn, from conception to completion was Lorelai's. As he watched her flit from table to table, there was no doubt in his mind that she had answered her calling. He couldn't be more proud of her accomplishments. It was hard for him to imagine that this incredible, dynamic woman – his best friend – would ever want him: a humble diner owner who classified shaving as a third tier priority. But she did, and she had made it abundantly clear.

It was bad enough that Luke couldn't get up and take Lorelai in his arms and whisk her up the stairs, but he was stuck in the dining room with all the other townies. He found it necessary to carefully avert his eyes from Babette, who had accidentally opened her robe allowing her 'girls', as she called them, out for some fresh air. He also needed to avoid recognition of even the most superficial understanding of each and every double entendre that passed through Patty's lips. This made speaking and listening very difficult, not that he hadn't had years and years of practice tuning them out. But, he knew that he wasn't there for them, he was there for Lorelai. So he sucked it up, stared at his plate, and shut his mouth. 'Later' was only a little while away, and he could hold out until he could be alone with her.

As she cavorted her way around the dining room, ribbing and joking with everyone, Luke and Lorelai kept a continuous eye on each other. They exchanged long glances with suppressed smiles that claimed victory over their faces, against their futile attempts to hide them.

For most of the evening she had been flirty and attentive, shy, yet suggestive. Then it changed. Suddenly she was preoccupied, nervous, and unavailable. Luke knew that her parents had arrived earlier, but he hadn't seen them. Could they have had a run in that made her demeanor change so drastically? Had something happened in the kitchen? Was there something that needed to be repaired? He observed the crease in her brow and the tension in her shoulders. He knew something was wrong, so he waited for an opportunity to get her alone to find out what was causing her stress and to see if he could help in any way.

His concerned gaze followed her discretely around the room. She continued to make small talk and smile. But it wasn't lost on him that her smile no longer reached her darting eyes. Then Luke understood. It was just a hint of a vaguely familiar profile, the forearm of someone holding a coffee table book, and red wine shimmering in a goblet. Lorelai's body turned away from the crowd toward another man.

Luke was in the dining room, with all the other 'friends' from the Hollow, but Mr. Speed Racer, horn honker, and germaphobe was in the library, like a king sitting on a throne of the wingback chair. Luke had to be content with short, but meaningful glances that grew in intensity as the night wore on. But they were stolen, fleeting, and in public.

Then _he_ showed up and he got her undivided attention. Luke couldn't see Lorelai's face, but he could see Lorelai's head nodding and her hand gesticulating in that familiar, graceful way she had about her when she was excited and wanting to talk about anything at all. He could imagine her smile, lighting up the room, focusing on Tom Slick.

Luke let out an audible groan when he saw Jason reaching for the dinner plate that Lorelai passed to him. As he observed the hand-off, he felt his heart drop. Did she choose which pieces of meat that he should have? The leanest, choice cuts just for him? Did she arrange them on the plate 'just so'? And would he have the crispest asparagus, and the thickest cuts of potatoes? Did she add the garnish of parsley to the side of the plate so that it would look appealing for him? Is the parsley there to freshen his breath before he takes her into his arms and kisses her?

Lorelai's voice from the previous night resonated in his head; _No one else was worth mentioning_. But Jason was mentioned. He was worth mentioning in the same category as Rory's father, and as the man that she almost married. She mentioned him. She brought him food. And he was here, in the inn that Luke invested in. He had his own private room, getting all of Lorelai's attention. And Luke sat. Watching. He grew more and more tormented as the dinner wore on, his heart simmering and seething in pain.

Every time Lorelai stopped and stood next to Jason in the library, Luke observed it from the corner of his eye. His face darkened as he thought about what he had asked to do to her. This guy didn't make her feel self-conscious. He didn't push her to do things she wasn't comfortable doing. He didn't need to go down on her, craving her taste and smell. Wanting to bury his face deep into the center of her being. Needing to prove that he was capable of making her scream out his name, so he could be the center of her universe, if only for a little while as she writhed in ecstasy before him.

Luke felt like such a fool. How was he supposed to know that Lorelai might be the only woman on the planet who didn't want to be pleasured that way? How was he supposed to know those uppity rules of the rich? Maybe rich guys didn't do that. Maybe rich girls were taught differently. But damn it, he wasn't rich, and he wanted to go down on his girlfriend, to feel her body react to him, to experience her with all of his senses. Was that so wrong? And why was he fixating on this so much?

Then a thought occurred to Luke. It slammed him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Maybe she wasn't _his_. He'd assumed she was, after the intimacy they shared. But, he knew what happened when you assumed things, and he was already beginning to feel like an ass. He didn't know what the hell was going on, but he knew someone who might.

Babette rolled her dice then screamed, "Full house! Oh, my God, I'm kicking your ass!"

Luke barely responded to her screech; he was fixated on the discussion in the other room. "Hey, Babette, who's that?" He gestured to the library.

"Who's what? Oh, that's Jason Stiles. He was Lorelai's boyfriend for the last six months," she said, as she penciled in her score.

"Oh, yeah?" He clenched his jaw. He knew she had been dating someone, but six months? That was a serious amount of time. Why hadn't Lorelai brought him around? Were they so wrapped up in each other they couldn't come up for air? Was Luke the rebound guy? Was this guy the reason that Lorelai felt 'slutty' after they had made love the first time, causing her to retreat without a word?

Babette continued to play as she passed on the gossip. "Yeah. Not exactly who I pictured her with, but he does have a very nice car. Anyhow, they were hiding their relationship from her parents, 'cause Jason was her father's business partner. Well, of course, the parents found out about it, and all hell broke loose. Jason wound up suing Lorelai's father."

"They still together?" Luke asked, dreading the answer.

"I don't know. I thought they broke up, but he's here, so maybe. I could ask Patty for you, if you want. Sometimes she gets the news first, 'cause her phone line picks up other people's conversations. Something about proximity to the power lines. I tell ya, location, location, location," she cackled, pumping her fist.

After he played several board games, Luke played the waiting game. He waited and watched as table after table left and went to their respective rooms. Some groups slipped away silently with hardly a word, like Tom and his wife. Others made a big show of it, stretching and yawning, like Kirk did before taking Lulu up.

Luke nursed his beer and waited, keeping his eyes on the man in the library's cashmere-covered elbow. Lorelai invited Luke, and there was no way in hell that he was going to his room leaving Lorelai's ex-boyfriend to find some alone time with her.

Lorelai was in the kitchen, working with her new staff. Luke had used every ounce of patience up to that point. He needed answers, and he was going to get them.  
So, he stood up, took a deep breath, and strode over to the library. He did hid best to don a casual affect as he extended his hand to his rival. "Hey. How you doing?"

"Good." Jason accepted the shake.

"Good. Luke Danes," he said, holding a steady gaze and gripping more firmly than protocol required, wondering if his own scruff looked as stupid on him as it did on this bozo.

"Jason Stiles."

~*~*~

Luke sat and contemplated the information that he had just gathered. The only sound he was aware of, was the sound of his own blood rushing though his ears. He worked hard at concentrating on each breath he took. He deliberately inhaled and exhaled; it was the only thing he could think of doing. The joy that he felt at the possibility of a new love and life with Lorelai had just been shattered.

His face flushed with disgrace as he weighed Jason Stiles' words. Six months. Six months was a long friggin' time to date someone, especially Lorelai. Luke had been with her probably less than six hours total, and he was already devastated. He cursed himself for thinking that he could be anything to her other than the guy who pours her coffee. He wasn't sure what move to make next, so he sat and breathed. In. Out. In. Out. Just concentrating on steadying his pounding heart.

Lorelai emerged from the kitchen, looking for him. When she saw him, she smiled, relieved that the first day and the test dinner had gone over so well – save the run in with her parents and the unexpected visit from Jason. But, she was able to keep her old lover from her new one. And now she could have her moment with Luke that she had waited for all day.

"Are you the last one up?" she asked, entering his personal space, and facing him squarely.

Luke smirked and took a step back. "No, not the last one."

"You okay?" she asked, confused by his withdrawal. "I heard Babette was kicking your butt at Yahtzee."

"Actually, I'm feeling pretty stupid right now."

"Why?"

"I'm not a mysterious man, am I?"

"Well, the wardrobe's a bit of a head scratcher." She tried a little levity so she could figure out why his mood had taken a complete one-eighty.

"You knew what we were doing! And you went along with all of it. So naturally, I assumed we were on the same page, and then your boyfriend shows up here at the inn that I invested in." Below the veneer of anger, she detected hurt.

"Whoa, what boyfriend? Are you talking about Jason?"

"No, Tom. Yes, Jason."

Suddenly her stomach hit the floor. She had tried so hard to keep them apart; she racked her brain, trying to figure out how and where they could have come in contact with each other. "You guys were talking? What did he say?"

"He said you were together. I mean, I was sitting there listening to this guy spout on and on about how it's right, you're right, he's right. The whole time, I'm thinking, 'What the hell have I been doing all this for? She's taken'." He held her gaze angrily, and then marched out the door.

The thought of losing Luke so soon in their relationship sent a jolt of fear through her spine as she followed him onto the porch. "I… I'm not taken! We broke up!"

"Well, he doesn't know that!" He spat the words at her with such vehemence that she recoiled.

"Well, just calm down!"

"I don't want to calm down!" He stopped and pointed to the floor for emphasis. "I thought we were on track, and now you're standing there looking at me like I'm crazy."

"I'm not looking at you like you're crazy!"

"You know the last time I planted a tree for someone? Never! That's when! Very easy stat to remember!"

"I love the tree!" she said emphatically, standing directly in front of him, touching his arm in a silent plea for him to stay.

"I thought we were building something together, only to find out you're with someone else, and have been for six months. Well, that's not how I do things. We _made love_, Lorelai. How could you do that if you're still with him?"

"Who says I'm with him?"

"I saw you bring him food. I watched you bring him _pot roast_."

"So what? You bring me food every day."

"Right. I bring you food every day. You're right. No big deal. It doesn't mean a thing. It couldn't possibly mean that I care about you, and want you to be happy, and taken care of. It couldn't possibly mean more than you ordering it and me bringing it. It couldn't possibly mean that I love you. When you're right, you're right. And I'm an idiot."

"You're not an idiot," she said softly.

"Oh, yes. First class, A-1, USDA Prime Choice idiot."

"No, you're not."

"I should have known. I knew it was too good to be true. I told you it was too good to be true. You don't trust me, but I trusted you."

"Luke, I didn't do anything wrong."

"You didn't do anything _right_. It's not right to be with me one day and him the next. It's not right to invite two men to the same function. It's not right to ask me, twice, to tell you that I love you. Twice. You know how many times you said it? Zero. That's how many times. That's another easy stat to remember. Danes two, Gilmore zero. I let it go, thinking I'd give you some time to process. Well, processing time is over. And I'm history." He scaled the steps and crossed the grass in long, determined strides.

"Luke, where are you going?" she cried, trying her best to avoid allowing her heels to dig into the soft grass as she struggled to keep up with him.

"As far away from this place as possible."

"Wait. I'm not with him. I don't want to be with him. We broke up."

"You have a funny way of showing it," he called over his shoulder.

"I didn't invite him here. I invited _you_."

"Then why is he here?" He stopped in his path, turning his fury toward her.

"He's here because my life is a Shakespearean Comedy of Errors. He showed up unannounced and he refused to leave. I swear, I didn't know he'd be here. I haven't talked to him in weeks."

"Maybe you're more comfortable with Frodo Baggins over there. He doesn't ask to do things to you that make you feel self-conscious."

She stopped following him and took a step back, as if he had physically struck her. "You're bringing that up now? You said you weren't mad about that."

"I wasn't then, but I am now. I would never have let you do that to me if I had known you wouldn't allow me to reciprocate, especially this early in our relationship," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"You're picking a fight with me over this?"

"I'm not picking a fight with you. I'm leaving."

She looked at him with such hurt swimming in her eyes that he had to look away. She used every ounce of control that she possessed, and held her voice steady, fighting savagely against the crack that threatened to surface. "I shared an intimate detail about myself with you. You have no idea how hard that was for me." She lost a couple points in the battle with her own vocal chords, took a fortifying breath, and regained control. "I can't believe you'd use it against me like this in anger. You talk about _me_ not doing the right thing, but no matter how mad you are about Jason being here, this is wrong." She paused again, and when she resumed, her voice was eerily calm. "Maybe you _should_ go. This whole thing was probably a bad idea."

Luke allowed his feet to remain fixed to the ground as he stared at his shoes, knowing that he had crossed the line. He hadn't played fairly and used his pain and jealousy as an excuse to hurt Lorelai, the one person who mattered most to him. He didn't know what he was going to say, but he reached out to her and opened his mouth.

Just then, Kirk came running out of the front door of the inn, naked and screaming his fool head off. He ran down the steps and right between Luke and Lorelai.

Luke hesitated for a moment, thinking that he should just let the idiot run naked through Stars Hollow. It would serve him right for being such a royal pain in the ass all these years, ordering bizarre stuff that wasn't even on the menu, and pinching every penny along the way. He would be justified to let Kirk wander alone, while he took care of his own love, his own life. But Luke knew as well as anyone in that town, that if someone needed him, and he said he'd be there, he'd be there. And Kirk needed him.

Luke looked back longingly into Lorelai's sad eyes. "I have to go," he said reluctantly, as he followed Kirk across the yard and over the fence.

~*~*~

TBC


	6. Chapter 6 Out with the Old

**Planting Hope**

**Chapter 6 – Out With the Old, In With the New**

**~*~*~**

**A/N: Thank you, Jewels12 for being my Spooly! And a wonderful Beta with awesome instincts and an eagle eye! You really are the best! **

~*~*~

Luke stood under the cover of darkness, well out of hearing range, observing the interaction between Lorelai and Jason. The porch light shone behind her, casting a glow around her hair and body, and illuminating her zigzag patterned skirt. _Her feet hurt_, he thought, as he watched her shifting her weight from one high heeled foot to the other, standing at the top of the short flight of porch stairs.

Lorela's arms were crossed tightly in front of her chest; she looked past Jason who stood two stairs below her. The man was facing her squarely. It appeared that he was desperately trying to hold her attention. He held his arms wide, using big gestures, yet she continued to look down and away.

"Lorelai, can you just tell me why? Aside from the obvious lawsuit, why not _me_?" Jason asked from the bottom steps, his face somber and his eyebrows drawn together. He stood as if he were waiting for her to hurl stones at him, and he was ready to take whatever flew his way.

"Jason, it's just not meant to be for us," she said quietly, trying to soften her words.

"Can you give me one tangible thing to leave with? Please?" he asked, his posture clearly showing that he wasn't leaving without a reason.

Lorelai kicked at an imaginary rock with the pointed toe of her shoe. She really didn't want to hurt him, but she was worn down by the evening's run-ins with her parents, with Luke, and again with Jason.

"I'm not sure how to word it," she said, stretching her neck gently from side to side, trying to release some of the tension she held there.

He latched onto her attempt. "Please, just give me _something_."

"Okay." She sighed deeply. "Jason, I can't stay with you because of your dog."

"Cyrus? But, he's very well behaved."

"I know he is. That's just it. He's too well behaved, but he needs to be a real dog. He needs to wag his tail when he sees you, and bark once in a while, and frolic. Maybe break a vase, or steal some cheese from the coffee table. He's a dog, not a statue, and I don't think that you love him. I don't know how to explain it, but I hate that."

"But, I _do_ love him. He's my _dog_."

"You don't love him, Jason. Love is a verb. You don't do anything to show that love. I don't want to someday be your wife, and have kids that are as well behaved as Cyrus, just aching for you to love them, hoping that if they're really, really good, and they do what you say, they'll be rewarded with a pat on the head,or an atta-boy."

"How did you make the incredible jump from my dog to my future wife and kids?"

"I was raised to be the perfect little show dog. It didn't work for me. I can't marry into that same life that I worked so hard to break free from."

"This line of reasoning has no basis in reality," he said desperately.

"How does your dad treat you and your mother? Is love a verb for him?"

It was Jason's turn to examine his shoes. "Wait a minute. We never discussed marriage and children. This is a purely hypothetical conversation."

"You're right. After six months, we still never talked about marriage and children." She looked directly at him. He nodded, knowing that she was stating the truth. "So, Jason, will you promise me one thing?" she asked.

"Okay."

"When you get home tonight, and every night from now on, will you pet your dog? Hug him and play with him? He's a really good boy, and his little heart is breaking for your affection."

"Yeah, I'll do that. I promise," Jason said with a sad smile, knowing that she was dismissing him. "I guess this is really goodbye, then?"

"It is. Goodbye, Jason."

"Goodbye, Lorelai."

Luke could tell, even from as far away as he stood, that Lorelai wasn't in love with that man. Every gesture and every movement was like an advance and retreat exercise. Jason moved forward, and Lorelai moved back. Finally, Jason turned and walked away with slumped shoulders, then stopped, turned around once again, and said something. She waved weakly, leaned against the porch post, and watched him get into his Mercedes, the gravel crunching under his tires as the drove away.

Luke continued to give her space. After several minutes, he gathered enough humility to approach her from the obscurity of the garden. She detected movement in her peripheral vision. His distinctive, athletic gait, apparent even in the darkness, revealed that it was Luke.

"Hey," he said tentatively when he reached the steps.

Suddenly the buzz of the mosquitoes and the gentle rustling of the leaves filled the air like a symphony. He searched her face for insights to her thoughts, but it was uncharacteristically blank.

"So that was Jason?" he asked, although they both knew that he knew the answer.

She nodded.

"Can we, uh, sit?" He gestured toward the porch swing.

With her arms folded defensively in front of her body, she walked a few steps to the swing, sat down at the far end, and crossed the leg closest to Luke firmly over the other. Luke sat at the other end, his elbows on his knees, concentrating on the parallel lines of the porch floor. They remained in silence.

Eventually, Luke sat back and rocked them in a lazy swinging rhythm. Lorelai uncrossed her arms and toyed with the bell shaped cuffs of her sweater. The new maple shimmered in several rich shades of silvery gray in the porch light's glow. They sat for a while, admiring it before Luke spoke. "That's a good place for it."

"Yeah, it looks happy," she finally said. He let out a slow breath, relieved that she was talking at all.

"This isn't exactly how I wanted to enjoy the evening with you," he admitted, having difficulty swallowing the lump in his throat.

She tugged her lips back slightly, hinting at a sad smile. More silence engulfed them, but the quality of it was shifting, from cold separation, to quiet companionship. Lorelai slipped off her shoes, tucked her feet under her skirt, and pulled the fabric securely around her legs. It had been a long day, and she was relieved to finally have a chance to get off her feet.

Luke knew that they needed to talk, and he had some repairs to make, but he sat quietly, content in the fact that she allowed him to sit with her at all.

"So, what happened with Kirk?" she asked.

"Night terror."

"Night terror?"

"Yeah, night terror, assassins, naked screaming, miniature cloven-hoofed aliens, Taylor's prize rose bush. He bit me." Luke pushed up his sleeve to show her the teeth marks. Her hand covered her mouth to stifle her gasp.

"Taylor bit you?"

"No, Kirk did. His mom is taking care of him. He'll be back in the morning for breakfast."

"How did _you_ get involved in Kirk's night terror?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "He loves her."

"Yeah, and it's a pretty creepy type of love if you ask me."

"He loves _Lulu_. He was worried that he might hurt her and didn't want to ninja kick her until he told her so. I kind of felt sorry for him, so, you know, I promised to look after him."

"You're a softie," she said, turning to look at his profile.

"I just did what anyone would have done."

"No, you did what _Luke_ would have done."

"Well, sometimes Luke does stupid things."

More silence followed. Soon she let her hand drift down to the seat of the bench. He shifted his hand toward hers and grazed it. A spark of energy flashed between them as she held her hand still. He hooked his pinkie over hers, and they clung to each other through this tiny link, acutely aware of the common pulse that ran through them.

He finally looked over to her downcast face. She could feel his eyes on her as he exhaled. "So... "

"So... " she countered.

"That was a rough start."

"You mean for the inn, of course." She looked at him, and his blue eyes captured hers.

"Of course," he agreed, giving her pinky a playful squeeze.

"Yes, it was. Although, you know, sometimes things start out roughly, only to work out smoothly in the end. You really don't know if things will work out unless you give them a chance."

"Then I guess we should keep trying, you know, until things run smoothly," he said hopefully.

"Well, yes, it's the only thing that makes really good business sense," she said. He covered her hand with his and curled his fingers around hers. She accepted the warm comfort he provided and held on.

He turned toward her as he said, "Look, Lorelai, about tonight."

She shifted in her seat so that she was facing him and leaning against the armrest. "Jason was here. I guess I can understand how it must have looked, and how it must have felt to hear him say that we were still together."

"No, there's no excuse for what I said. You were right. I should never have brought up something so private, especially in anger. I was wrong. I'm sorry. And I should have let you explain about Jason, instead I flew off the handle, and I'm sorry for that, too."

She didn't say anything, but simply tucked her toes under his thigh. Sometimes accepting an apology is even more difficult than extending one.

"I think we went about things the wrong way," he said, his hand migrating from hers, to her calves. He massaged them firmly, working away the stiffness as they spoke.

"You think it was wrong?"

"Well _something_ is wrong if we've only been together two days, and already we've had two fights."

She let out a puff of air that could have almost been mistaken for a laugh. She was feeling the effects of her hard work catching up with her physically and emotionally.

"I don't want to say goodbye," he said, his voice husky and raw.

"That's what Jason said, too." She rubbed the pads of her fingers along the back of her neck on either side of her spine.

Luke swallowed, steadying himself for whatever she might say next.

"Funny thing is, I was irritated when he said it. But you said it, and I'm relieved."

"You are?"

"Yeah. But I don't know what to do. We can't fight all the time. This is too hard."

"I think I know what might be wrong," he said.

"You do?"

"We skipped some steps."

"Well, aren't we just the step skippers?"

"Yeah."

"You mean 'damn skippy'!" She smiled - small smile, but a real one. After a thoughtful pause, she asked, "What do you think we should do?"

"I don't know what we _should_ do, but I know what I want to do," he said.

"What's that?" She sighed, hoping he wasn't going _there_ again. She was too exhausted to support the emotion of embarrassment.

"I want to take you out on some real dates. I want to wait all day until date time, looking forward to the minute that I can knock on your door, and pick you up." She straightened her legs and draped them over his lap. He immediately began to rub her feet, massaging the tension away from the instep out through her toes. She closed her eyes, resting her head against the side of the bench, while she visualized his ideas. "I want to pull out your chair, and help you with your coat. I want to hold your hand while we walk, so every other schmuck around will be envious. I want to spend the night with you, hold you all night, and wake up with you in the morning. Then, I want to make you breakfast, and read the newspaper with you, so you can mock the advice column, and I can rant at the editorials. I want to call you just to say goodnight. I want you to answer the phone happy that it's me calling. I want you to share with me when good things happen. I want you to confide in me when bad things happen, too. I want to kiss you hello without worrying about what anyone else thinks. And, I want to kiss you goodbye knowing we can't wait to see each other again."

She opened her eyes, and stared at him, touched by the simplicity of his wish list, and how closely it paralleled her own.

"I just want to be with you. Will you accept that? Can we start over, without the fights and the insecurities?" he asked hopefully.

"Do you think we can do it without the fights and the insecurities? I mean, how will we know it's us?" She smiled. He loved her smile, and the flicker of hope that he held for their relationship had just sparked back to life.

"We'll just have to take it on faith."

"I'll accept it," she said simply.

"I can tell you're tired," he said, tapping her feet to indicate that the massage was over. She swung her legs down. He stood up and waited for her to put on her shoes. When she was ready, she held her hands up in an invitation for help. He pulled her up gently, then took a step in. He wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her into a warm hug. She held back at first, then relaxed, her body fitting snuggly against his. Each soft, supple curve of hers was met with a strong muscular plane of his. Their bodies interlocked perfectly as they released their tension in a deep, cleansing exhale. They held on securely. Luke cupped her head in his large hand, stroking her hair, and held her waist firmly against his with his other hand. She buried her head in his chest, breathing in his already familiar, intoxicating aroma.

"I'm so sorry," he said, through kisses that he breathed into her hair.

She nodded and they clung to each other for a few more minutes.

"Come on, you've had a long day. Let me walk you up."

"I _am_ exhausted, plus I haven't seen Rory in a while. She's probably waiting for me in the room," she said. She tucked her hand behind her at the small of her back, and held onto his as she led him into the inn, and past the front desk. "I need to get my purse," she explained, as she opened the door to her office.

When they entered, they were hit with a distinctive odor of leftover food.

"Oh, well, it's ripe in here!" she was embarrassed to announce.

"What is it?" he asked, trying not to look too disgusted.

She reached behind her computer and pulled out the tray of food from the day before. "Ah, some food from yesterday. I got so busy, I totally forgot."

"Why is it in here?" he asked.

"I made it for you, but kind of got distracted by your, uh, shower," she said shyly.

He looked at the platter of assorted fruits and cheeses. The melon was cut into wedges that now had non-distinct edges and had juice pooling around it. The pastel-colored juice seeped over to the slices of cheese that were carefully arranged in a spiral pattern, but had become soggy and looked like they had been soaking in Easter egg dye. The cheese glistened with a layer of oil that had risen to the surface at room temperature. Each slice melted into the next. And the bread had become a spongy mess from soaking up the fruit juices.

"You put this together?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, just some things I thought you would like. I know you like to eat healthy food, so I figured you'd like the grapes, those actually look pretty good still. And I sliced some melon and some apples for you, but you can see that they didn't hold up too well. Then I thought that after all that digging, you'd need more than fruit, so I sliced you some cheese. I didn't know which kind you'd like, so I just used the three kinds that I found."

"So, _you_ sliced the cheese?"

"Yeah, and thanks for saying 'sliced'." They both smiled. "I'm getting pretty good at slicing. I even tried some dicing, with the gruyere," she said proudly as she pointed to the uneven cubes with fancy cellophane toothpicks sticking out of them.

He stared at her, shaking his head.

"Then I though that you'd need some bread, so I picked this seven-grain stuff that Sookie makes. But as you can see, they didn't stand a chance against the fruit goop."

"You did all this for _me_?"

"Well, yeah, most of it. See those gooey, soggy, tarty things? Those were for me, unless you wanted..."

"Lorelai, can I ask you one more, I swear, final question about Jason?" he asked, spinning her around gently so they faced each other.

"I guess so," she answered with a confused expression.

He took a step toward her, and rested his hands on her waist. "How did you decide on pot roast for him?"

"Oh, that. I didn't really decide. Sookie said that they had some extra plates they needed to push because everyone was ordering the fish. So, I gave him the pot roast."

"That's it?" he asked, pulling her in closer.

"Yeah. Should there be more?"

"No. There shouldn't be any more," he whispered, as his lips brushed across hers softly. She held her breath; she was powerless when they were this close. His mouth hovered over hers again while he waited for her to respond. She tilted her head subtly and pressed her lips against his. That was all the invitation he needed. His hand moved behind her head, becoming buried in a tangle of curls as he pulled her face into his, devouring her mouth hungrily, releasing all the tension and fear of losing her in one crushing, sensuous kiss that lasted forever. Her hands migrated to his neck and she found herself gasping softly in desire, wanting him as much as he wanted her.

They closed the space that separated them, so the length of their entire bodies were pressing tightly against each other. He backed her up to the door and held her there, pressed between the unforgiving wall and his relentless kisses. His hands moved to the door and he leaned on them, one on each side of her head, essentially trapping her as he leaned all the weight of his middle against her. She reveled in the passion behind each kiss, igniting her own that she had mistakenly assumed she was too exhausted to spark. He kissed her neck and the soft area below her ear. She moaned and buried her face into the soft stubble of his neck, inhaling his aroma, needing more and more of him each second.

He dipped his head lower and cupped her breasts, pushing them together and up so he could kiss the tops of them as they overflowed above her sweater. She let out more soft sounds of pleasure as she caressed his back and shoulders, feeling his muscles ripple under his thin layers of clothing.

"God, I want you," he groaned, trying desperately to remain in control.

"I want you, too," she said between kisses.

"Spend Monday with me. We'll go somewhere, just us."

"Yes."

"Good, then Monday. It's a date."

She laughed. "A _real_ date."

"It only took us eight years to get there," he said between kisses.

"Well then we have a lot of time to make up for," Lorelai said with a decadent smile.

~*~*~

TBC


	7. Chapter 7 Empty Nest

**Planting Hope**

**Chapter 7 - Empty Nest**

~*~*~

A/N: Thank you, once again **Jewels12**, my friend! I really appreciate all of your beta talents that you give so generously.

**Readers:** Thanks so much for continuing to read this story. You'll only have to stomach Rory and Dean for the first few paragraphs, I promise! Oh, yeah, Liz and TJ, who? You might notice they're not in this fic and they won't be. Okay, enough yakkin', let's continue with the 'interview' phase of the relationship.

~*~*~

"I love you, Rory," Dean said, looking dreamily into her eyes as they lie in her bed, wearing only crumpled sheets.

"I love you, too, Dean," she replied, through a satisfied smile.

They both rested their heads against shared pillows, as they closed their eyes, contemplating what just happened. Rory breathed in his scent and snuggled in closer, and Dean wrapped his arms around her, never wanting this moment to end.

Suddenly, their intimate reverie was interrupted by the ringing phone. They both popped their eyes open, waiting with pounding hearts until the machine picked it up. Reality reached them via the sound of Lorelai's voice.

"_Rory where are you? You're missing everything! I'll keep babbling until you pick up."_ Rory made a movement toward the voice, but Dean held her arm and shook his head. She yielded, and opted to listen. _"Not there? No pickie-uppie? I hope you're on your way. I'm starting to worry about you, kid. Do I need to send my posse out on a search party? Hurry, I need to tell you how I saw Kirk's butt. Hah! I said 'Kirk's butt' on the answering machine. Emily and Richard would be so proud! Ok, I'll call your cell. Bye."_

By the time the answering machine beeped off, both Rory and Dean were scrambling for their clothes.

~*~*~

Lorelai was ready for bed and exhausted, yet found herself flipping absentmindedly through a complimentary copy of _The Stars Hollow Visitors' Guide _that Kirk had published, and had somehow talked her into placing in each guestroom. As she leafed through the pages, she began to worry about Rory. It wasn't like her to disappear from a function for so long without telling anyone. The last time Lorelai had seen her was when she asked her to go pick out some CDs at home, in case the guests wanted to listen to music. But, that was quite a while ago. Rory hadn't picked up the house phone, and her cell phone kept going straight to voicemail.

Lorelai considered getting dressed and going out to look for her, but decided that she'd wait a few more minutes before allowing her maternal worry mode to fully kick in. Something wasn't right; that much she knew.

After what seemed like endless fretting on Lorelai's part, Rory opened the guestroom door tentatively. She wasn't surprised to see Lorelai waiting up for her, but Lorelai's concern caught her off guard.

"She's alive!" Lorelai said, though not playfully.

"Yeah. It's me." Rory nodded.

"Where you been? I was really starting to get worried."

"Oh, well I went home to get the music."

Lorelai noticed her daughter's empty hands, disheveled hair, and her unevenly closed sweater. "So, where's the music?"

"Oh, I… Mom, I need to tell you something," Rory sighed, slinking down at the foot of Lorelai's bed.

~*~*~

Rory and Lorelai sat at the same bistro table in the al fresco dining area, yet they were miles apart. They waited in near silence for Emily to return to lunch. She had just announced that she was leaving for Europe that evening because, as she finally admitted, she and Richard had split. She excused herself, probably to give Rory and Lorelai some time to process the information. Lorelai never thought she'd find herself hoping that her mother would hurry back to relieve the tension, but there was a first time for everything.

Lorelai tried to break the ice, "Rory, don't you want to talk?"

"We already did," Rory said, reaching for the sweetener container.

"Can't we just talk about this for a second?"

'I already heard everything you had to say last night."

"You know what? Fine. I give. It's your life. Do what you want," Lorelai said indignantly.

"Thank you," Rory retorted, shifting through the packets.

"You're nineteen. You know what you're doing."

"I _do_ know what I'm doing." She pulled out the yellow packet, and shook it before ripping the top off.

"So you don't want to talk. We won't talk." Lorelai looked at her daughter.

"Good."

"I wasn't thinking we had to talk like mom and kid. I thought we could talk as friends, but hey, forget it," Lorelai said, holding her palms out in defeat.

"I will." Rory still couldn't look at her mother as she concentrated on getting her iced tea just right.

"Not that I take back what I said."

"That's your prerogative." Rory stirred her tea, concentrating on dissolving the fine white grains that settled on the bottom of her glass.

"I mean, he's _married_, and as your friend, I have every right to point out the obvious.

Rory pointed her long spoon at Lorelai. "Which you did twice now."

"Okay, and I stand by it, though I felt maybe I could help you figure out how to handle this as your friend, who you usually turn to, to help you figure out how to handle things. But if you don't want to talk, then fine."

"Great."

Lorelai crossed her arms in exasperation and sighed, "We won't talk."

"Love the thought," Rory said as she picked up the lemon wedge and squeezed it into her drink.

"Don't worry about me nagging you to talk anymore. I'm out."

"Terrific." She squeezed the lemon harder, pursing her lips tightly.

"In fact, I'm really busy, so if you did change your mind…"

"Which I won't." Rory set down the lemon decisively.

"Okay. But if you did, I'm sorry. I can't help."

"Any end to this speech in sight?" Rory asked, clinking the metal of the spoon against the thin glass, attempting to distract Lorelai from her diatribe.

Emily returned and sat down with a determined smile. "So, Rory, do you have any big plans this summer?"

"Yeah, Rory, you don't have anything going on this summer, do you?" Lorelai asked casually, sitting back in her chair, ready to watch the games begin.

"Uh, I guess not," Rory said, glaring at her mother before taking a long drink. Although she spent all that time making it perfectly to her liking, she couldn't taste a thing.

Emily raised her eyebrows as if the thought had just occurred to her. "Since Rory has no real plans for the summer, I have the most wonderful idea!"

Lorelai leaned in. "Tell us all about it, Mom!" She said, with an enthusiastic smile plastered on her face

~*~*~

As soon as Lorelai got home from the airport, she went straight upstairs. She pulled her hair into a hasty ponytail, scrubbed her face, and brushed her teeth. She yanked off her blouse before applying moisturizer to her face and throat, then slipped on the first pair of pajamas that she found casually draped over the chest at the foot of her bed. The bottoms were soft cotton drawstrings with flying toasters and coffee cups imprinted all over them. The top was a short, baby blue t-shirt that left a one inch gap, exposing her toned midriff, between the hem and the top of her pants.

Once ready for bed, Lorelai padded downstairs to the kitchen. She passed the blinking light on the answering machine, deciding to ignore it. She opened the refrigerator and was not surprised, but nevertheless, she was disappointed in its contents, or lack there of. Rory's open bedroom door beaconed her. She entered and flipped on the light. In her haste, Rory left items strewn around the room and empty hangers all over the bed. Lorelai absentmindedly picked up some clothes, and hung them in the closet.

She noticed a framed photo of Rory and herself, hugging and posing shamelessly for the camera. She remembered that it was taken at Rory's graduation from Chilton. She used the bottom of her shirt to wipe some dust off the frame, then placed it carefully back on the dresser. Lorelai walked to the door, stopped, and took a look around. Somehow, the room seemed so much smaller. In fact, the whole house seemed silent and lonely. She flipped off the switch, and closed the door behind her.

Lorelai walked over to the desk where the phone was, and pushed 'play' for her messages. Luke's soothing voice resonated through the speakers. _"Hello. It's me. I just called to say hello, and to talk with you - on the phone. But you're not there, well, I assume you're not there, or you'd be picking up. Well, anyway, hello and bye."_ She smiled at his message, feeling infinitely less lonely. The machine beeped and a second message played. _"Hello. It's Luke again. I didn't say it was Luke the last time. I just said 'it's me'. And I'm not sure if we're at the point in our relationship yet where I can say, 'it's me'. So, I'll just say, 'Hello, this is Luke. Call me back. Bye.' Okay, so call me back. Bye."_ She sat and smiled at the machine, hugging her knees up to her chest.

She checked the time on the wall clock and concluded that it was late, not terribly late for her, but too late for Luke. However, tomorrow was his day off. She hesitated for a moment before picking up the cordless receiver. She punched in his number, and held her breath.

It rang several times before she heard him fumbling at his end. "Hello." His sleepy voice was raspy.

"Hello, Luke, it's Lorelai."

"Oh, hey. How are you?" he asked, sitting up so he could shake off the fogginess.

She winced. "I'm sorry, I woke you."

"No, no, I wasn't really sleeping." She knew his male ego would never allow him to admit that he was asleep, no matter what time it was.

"I was just returning your call. I can let you get back to not sleeping. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Is everything all right?"

She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, then blurted, "Luke, can I stay with you tonight?"

"Yeah. Of course." He was surprised, but he answered without hesitation.

"Are you sure? I know we talked about skipping some st …"

"Postitive. How soon can you be here?"

"Ten minutes."

"I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes," he said, smiling as he hung up the phone.

He rubbed is eyes, wondering if this were a dream, then sat there for a moment before hoisting himself into action. "Ten minutes, ten minutes," he said to himself as he surveyed the room. He picked up bottle caps, old newspapers, and the day's worn clothing. He straightened up some piles of mail that were scattered on his coffee table, then he headed over to the bathroom.

After brushing his teeth, he made sure he had securely fastened the toothpaste cap. He checked to confirm that there were clean towels hanging, and that his sink was whisker free. He actually put the roll of toilet paper _on_ the holder. Finally, he rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh, before giving in and lowering the toilet seat. "I don't want to hear about it," he spoke to himself again. But in his heart, he knew that putting the seat down was a miniscule price to pay for Lorelai's company.

His small apartment was in order. Now for the hard part: he had to wait. The minutes ticked by slowly as he sat on a stool in the diner. He kept an eye out the window, waiting for a glimpse of her Jeep. While he waited, he began to worry that maybe something was wrong. She seemed a little distracted on the phone. He guessed he'd just have to find out when she got there. He hoped that she wouldn't change her mind about coming over, especially since he saw this as an opportunity to act like a normal person, and not some jealous maniac. He vowed to not push her to say or do anything. He needed this to work, he had faith that the feelings were mutual, and he didn't want to ruin everything by doing something stupid.

Soon, her Jeep rounded the corner. Luke jumped to his feet and unlocked the door while she parked. Before exiting the vehicle, she released her hair from its elastic band and fluffed it around her shoulders while scoping out the area. She didn't see anyone, so she ducked from her Jeep to the glass door, which held open for her. Once she was safely inside, he closed and bolted it, then turned all his attention toward her.

"Hi." He smiled, holding back, trying to gauge her mood.

"Hi," she said, stepping into him and wrapping her arms around his neck. His arms automatically curled around her waist, and he pulled her in tightly. They clung to each other in a warm, secure embrace, neither wanting to let go. Luke sensed that she needed this hug more than she was letting on.

His lips brushed her cheek aand he asked her, "Are sure you're okay?"

She nodded unconvincingly. He gave her another tight squeeze, then escorted her up the stairs. When they reached his apartment, he could see that she hadn't been crying, but clearly something had upset her. "I'm just really tired," she insisted.

"Okay, come on." He switched off the lights and brought her straight to bed. She slipped off her shoes and backed into him as he held the covers for her. He curved his body around hers instinctively. They molded into each other perfectly. Luke's hand found the bare skin of her torso, warm and soft, and he pulled her protectively against him. He couldn't believe that she was here. This was so right. They didn't have to make love; they could just lie together, basking in each other's warmth, and he would be satisfied.

She snuggled in deeper, allowing them both to relax in comfort, floating toward sleep. "Rory's gone to Europe," she said softly, almost as if she were in a confessional.

He detected the hurt in her voice, and kissed the back of her head. "Was this planned?"

"No. She just decided today. She went with my mother."

"Did something happen?"

"Yeah, something happened." Her voice cracked, but that was all she revealed.

He remembered his vow not to push. "You don't have to tell me. I'm just happy you're here."

"Me too. And Luke?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for not asking me to tell you."

"You're welcome," he said, inhaling her fragrance, and squeezing her a little tighter.

"Luke?"

"Yeah, Lorelai?"

"Have you ever had a dog?" she asked, seemingly out of the blue.

He smiled at the memory of his childhood pet. "Yeah, we had a dog."

"Tell me about him."

He sensed that she needed more comfort and he didn't have to get up at any particular time, so he indulged her. "He was tan, brown, and white, and sort of a Lab/German Shepherd/Collie mix. Pure mutt. His name was Trouble."

"Well, that's just asking for him to bite the postman."

"Nah, he'd never bite anyone. His real name was Tribble, but it evolved into Trouble, because he liked to dig holes, tip over the trash can, and rummage through it. You know, typical dog stuff."

She laughed. "Tribble, like the Star Trek hamsters?"

"Yeah, well, I was going through a phase."

"I guess so. Remind me to mock you about that later. Tell me more about this Tribble." She rolled onto her back so she could look up at him through the dim light.

"One day when I was walking home from practice, I found him. He was soaking wet and shivering, so I tucked him inside my jacket and brought him home. I was sure that they wouldn't let me keep him, but I was wrong. My mom toweled him off and warmed him up right away. Then we fed him. That was our first mistake. Damn dog didn't stop eating the entire twelve years we had him." She smiled at the fond memories of his home life that he shared. "By the time my father got home, it was too late. My mother, Lizzie, and I had already named him Tribble because he looked just like one of those balls of fur. My dad never did have the heart to say no to my mom."

"Your dad didn't like dogs?"

"He said he didn't, but he was full of it. I learned later that my parents already knew of my mother's diagnosis at the time, so they thought the dog was a good way to keep our mind off the news we'd soon be getting." He swallowed. "Trouble turned out to be the best thing for us kids. For all of us, really."

"Did you teach him any tricks?"

"Not really, just how to fetch. I got a pretty good throwing arm from playing with him so much."

"What else?" she asked, eager for more details about Luke as a boy.

"Lizzie and I used to fight over who got to use him as a pillow. Usually he'd just sprawl out on the floor between us as we watched one of three available television stations on our thirteen inch black and white."

A little perplexed, she asked, "Why did I think you hated dogs?"

"I don't hate them. It's just…I really hated losing him," he explained, before blinking several times.

She turned toward him and stroked the side of his face, relishing the rough, masculine stubble under her palm. She pushed him down firmly, then cradled his cheeks in her hands before bringing her lips to his. "Luke," she breathed, as she kissed him softly, again and again.

He accepted her light, delicate kisses that couldn't conceal the deep desire beneath them. Covering her mouth with his, he pulled her to him, and held her there. They were probing and kissing so enticingly slow, that she had to remind herself to breathe. She couldn't get close enough to him. Her body cloaking his, and her mouth dueling and tasting, weren't enough; she had to have him closer. Their thin clothing was a hindrance and was eliminated without ceremony, one piece at a time.

To feel his strength next to her was her biggest need as she shifted up and down his body, her breasts caressing his chest and her legs smoothing over his. He moved her hair away, and cupped her face, looking deep into her eyes as she slid her moisture along him, leaving a glistening sheen on his heated desire.

He pulled her to him and kissed her, kneading and stroking her breasts, which filled his hands so perfectly. She hovered over him, offering her taught nipples to be teased and to be tasted. Flicking his tongue on them, he was immediately rewarded with tight, responsive beads, which he heartily suckled and savored. Lorelai arched her back and relished the sensations of his mouth on her, sending pulses of pleasure directly between her legs, where she could feel his heat rising.

"You're so soft," he whispered into the valley between her breasts.

She smiled at him wickedly. "You're not."

"No, not with you on top of me, I'm not."

She slid up his ridge again, rubbing her pleasure center along the crest, tantalizing him by pausing when she reached the tip, only to slide down along the outside again.

"Lorelai!" he pleaded. That single word expressing all of his desire. He grasped her hips and guided her above him. She smiled at him again – a smile that knocked the wind right out of him, as he pulled her down to stop directly above his sex.

Her hand encircled his shaft, and positioned him at her entry. She twirled his tip around the outsides of her moist folds and remained up on her knees while kissing his neck. She breathed softly into his ear, murmuring words of anticipation, of desire, and of encouragement. He lifted his hips off the mattress, reaching and straining to experience the warmth of her, unable to wait any longer. She moved up again, teasing him until passion took over and he grasped her hips and held her steady. He finally entered her, inch by glorious inch. It had only been two days, and he already missed the wonderfully hot grip of her center, which was, at last, enveloping him. She arched her back, accepting him into her, allowing him to fulfill her body's feminine cravings that she was just beginning to realize she had.

Unexpected gasps of ecstasy escaped from deep within her as he slowly filled her. She swayed up and down, each time she took a little more, until finally she had all of him inside of her. Luke made her aware of sensations and emotions that she never knew existed. She relished his masculine, musky scent, intermingled with soap and testosterone. His hands were treasures; they felt like they existed with the singular purpose of pleasuring her. She writhed under his slightest caress, taking everything he had to offer, yet hungering for more.

Once she was able to accommodate him comfortably, they found their rhythm, a long, languid stride, simmering below a thin veil of control. She closed her eyes, and focused on the tactile feast that stoked her desires. The soft hairs of his chest tickled her areolas as she shifted forward and back. His warm breath set the nerves of her neck on end, and his hands gripped her hips firmly, pulling her down to meet him halfway at each stroke.

He kept his eyes open, savoring the vision of beauty that he had, until recently, only admired from afar. She was so beautiful. His eyes rested on her face, then traveled along every inch of her body, only to return to watch her unguarded expressions of fulfillment as he made love to her.

She opened her eyes and found him staring lustfully. "So, you want to drive?" she purred, through a crooked half-smile.

"Mmm, yeah." They laughed while they rolled themselves over, trying not to break the connection in the process. He laid her down gently and kissed her while they slowly regained their rhythm. She loved feeling the weight of his lower body as he pushed into her repeatedly. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in, coaxing him into quickening his speed and intensifying his thrusts.

When she finally relaxed the grip her legs had around him, he sat back on his knees, grabbed her thighs, and slid her body up to him as he went. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she allowed him to position her so that her hips were lifted off the bed and were balanced on his upper legs. When he rose up on his knees, he lifted her by the thighs, held on, and pushed forward. Her body was now arched, with her head and shoulders on the bed, and her lower portion raised. She found better balance by putting her feet flat on the bed, and pushing up each time he drove in.

He slid his hand from her hip to her center, and stroked her nub gently with his thumb. Instantly, she clamped down on him and sighed. She was so slippery soft, and wonderfully wet, that his thumb slid effortlessly over her sensitive center, taking its lead from the sensual gyrations of her hips.

Her breathing became shallow as she lay back, accepting the additional stimulation. He could tell that she was getting closer to reaching a climax, but he still loved hearing her express every ounce of pleasure that she felt. She gripped and released her interior muscles more intently as she neared her peak.

"God, Luke!" she cried, her voice encouraging him even more.

He increased the pressure with his hand, willing himself to wait until she climaxed first. When she did, the quakes started in her abs and radiated out through her breasts and her core. They quivered passed her torso, and trembled out her limbs, one rolling, shaking series after another. She gasped and moaned in ecstasy, calling out his name repeatedly.

Her pulsing body triggered his climax, which started even before her tremors had subsided. He sunk deep inside her, experiencing each wave of her orgasm as she flexed and released within. Ragged breaths tore out of him with each emptying lunge. "Oh, God!" he managed to rasp, as he spilled into her, until finally he was spent.

He backed up and allowed her body to return to the mattress before he climbed up to meet her waiting lips, and kissed her through heavy breaths. He rested his weight on one elbow, then rolled to his side, taking her with him. They remained entwined, but immobile for several minutes.

"You're so beautiful," he said, rapt in the satisfied expression on her face.

"No, you are," she managed to breathe.

"I said it first."

"Well, I said it last," she countered.

He laughed. "I don't have the strength to argue."

"Hey, maybe that's our answer. We can make love like this all the time and be too tired to argue from now on."

"That works for me."

"Yeah, me too." She snuggled into him contentedly.

After several minutes of recuperation, Lorelai asked, "Luke, I know it would be hard for you to lose another dog, but what if I wanted a dog someday?"

He fell into the depths of her hopeful, blue eyes. Suddenly, Luke understood why his father could never refuse his mother anything. "Then we'll find one that needs a home, and get a dog."

"Really?"

"Really," he said with a soft kiss. "But I draw the line at yappy, little sissy dogs that are smaller than my shoes."

She giggled into his neck. "Now _there's_ my Luke."

~*~*~

The next morning, Luke woke up before Lorelai. He had slept soundly all night, the scent of her hair causing him to dream of wildflowers and citrus blossoms. They were wrapped around each other and he reveled in her presence, taking in her peaceful beauty. He had only seen her asleep once before, when she spent the night because her inn had caught fire. But he hadn't allowed his eyes to linger on her then for fear that he'd cross some invisible line of friendship.

But now it was different, more intimate, and infinitely more satisfying. He allowed his eyes to caress each feature of her face, the curve of her delicate chin, the slope of her nose, the way her eyelashes rested against her cheek, casting feathery shadows on her face. She breathed so quietly and looked so peaceful; he wanted to stay and twirl her hair around his fingers all day. But he knew there would soon be a diner full of patrons, and when Lorelai arrived last night, she brought nothing but the pajamas she was no longer wearing, and her large purse.

He crept out of bed, pulled on his old, comfy jeans, a t-shirt, and some sneakers, then headed downstairs to get some provisions. He greeted Caesar with a nod, and gathered some breakfast food. Caesar was used to seeing Luke early in the morning. Even on his days off, he'd frequently pop down to get his newspaper, or just to check that things were running smoothly.

Luke grabbed the paper and some breakfast staples. He did all this without venturing in front of the curtain, except to grab a full pot of coffee, which he swiftly emptied into an insulated carafe, then returned the empty vessel to the machine without reloading it.

Miss patty caught a glimpse of his strong forearm as he replaced the pot, and could see his jeans from the knees down. She nodded to Gypsy subtly, who followed Patty's eyes below the curtain. Everyone knew that Luke didn't drink coffee. But they all knew a certain someone who couldn't live without it - a certain someone who also owned a sporty little Jeep, just like the one that was parked in the back lot. The women exchanged knowing glances, and Patty raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"It's about time. That's all I've go to say," Gypsy proclaimed.

"You can say that again," Patty agreed.

"It's about time."

"O, dios mio." Patty said, rolling her eyes, and fanning herself with a menu.

~*~*~

TBC


	8. Chapter 8 Boy Soap and Girl Trouble

**Planting Hope**

**Ch****. 8 -Boy**** Soap and Girl Trouble**

~*~*~

Thank you so much **Jewels12**, my Julie Spooly! Your kind words and your gentle beta comments have helped so much, I fear I'm running out of grateful words to say to you.

**LoriD**, thank you so much for laughing at my boy soap. You really made this chapter fun to write.

~*~*~

The windows were open, the drapes drawn, and the early morning cast of yellow and orange sunlight poured into the tiny converted office apartment. Luke had lived there for more years than he had ever planned, more years than he cared to admit. He hadn't always been alone there, but he couldn't remember a time when his place had ever felt so light, so fresh, or so alive. He hummed a tune while he quietly prepared breakfast, carefully avoiding the clang of the metal pans on the burners.

Lorelai lay on her side, surrounded by all his pillows, hugging at least three of them securely as she slept. The blankets had drifted down to drape over her hips, exposing yards of alabaster skin, and the sinewy curve of her spine. Her hair was splayed in loose waves all around her shoulders, partially covering her face.

Luke knew he needed to keep his distance, or she'd never stand a chance catching up on her sleep. He glanced at his guest periodically, trying not to wake her, yet hoping that she'd rise soon. He was already beginning to miss her, and was anxious to continue this new phase in their relationship.

A small smile played on his lips when he shredded some extra cheese for her omelet and noticed Lorelai beginning to stir. Her peaceful dreams were enhanced by the aroma of sizzling bacon wafting from the range, where Luke was busily flipping skillets and whisking eggs. She opened her eyes slowly, and then immediately covered them with the back of her wrist. After stretching and groaning a bit, Lorelai rolled onto her back.

"Where are you?" she whined weakly, her arm still draped over her eyes.

"I'm right here," Luke answered, through an amused smile. He couldn't remember when he had ever grinned so early in the morning.

"You're not right _here_, though," she complained.

He smiled even more, to think that the first words out of her mouth were whiny complaints, yet he loved every one of them.

"Because I'm over _he__re_, cooking you breakfast. I can't be in two places at once."

"You could come here, for a minute, and hug me."

"No, I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"Nope."

"Why not?" She twisted and flopped over, pulling a few pillows with her.

"Because I have three burners going, and there's no way on earth I could hug you for only a minute. I'd get distracted, and the whole place would go up in flames. Call me old fashioned, but I'm not about to share you with the entire Stars Hollow Fire Department." He pulled several paper towels off the roll, and placed them flat on a plate.

"Prude," she said haughtily, while raising herself to a seated position, pulling up the blankets in the process.

He shook his head as he transferred slices of bacon from the pan onto the paper towels.

She glanced at him to make certain that he was occupied before she dropped the blankets and darted for the bathroom, picking up her bag along the way. He looked up just in time to get a glimpse of her gently curved backside, before she closed the door. He returned to the bacon, and his joyful humming, while he transferred the remainder of it to the plate, and flipped her omelet.

She felt a little more alert when she emerged from the bathroom, wearing one of Luke's soft, worn flannels. She had already fastened the two center buttons, and was rolling up the cuffs, as she made her way to the kitchen. He watched with interest while dispensing the steamy coffee from the carafe.

He had never seen a sexier-looking woman than Lorelai, in his shirt, with loosely tousled hair, and not a stitch of make-up. "Here you go," he said, holding his breath while handing her the cup.

She wrapped her hands around the mug, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. "Oh, yes!" Euphoria cloaked her face as she took her first sip.

"I don't have a coffee maker up here. I'll bring the small one up from the storage room tomorrow," he said casually, as he pulled the chair out for her. She glowed inwardly at the thought of tomorrow, and how he was already making room for her in his life. She sat down, and he placed a plate in front of her.

"Mmmm. Thank you. This is _so_ cool." She shimmied a subtle chair dance. "I get Luke's made by Luke. I'm at Luke's, but I'm not _at_ Luke's."

"I'm glad you like it. Can I get you anything else?" he asked, bringing his plate to the table.

"No. This is really nice. You didn't have to do all of this. I didn't mean to make you have to work on your day off," she said sincerely.

"It's not work," he said. "Now, eat. You're going to need your strength for today."

"Our first _real_ date!" She smiled as she dove heartily into her breakfast.

He nodded, happy to please her, and began eating his own greener, healthier breakfast.

"So, what super cool, special things do you have planned for us today?" she asked between bites.

"I have things in mind," he said cryptically.

She raised her eyebrows. "Yeah? What things?"

"You know, typical date fodder."

"I don't know _your_ typical date fodder. Where are we going? Hiking, fishing, log rolling, bomb building, the batting cages?"

"It's a surprise. You like surprises, don't you?" he teased, prolonging the suspense.

"You know I do, but how am I supposed to know the proper thing to wear, if you don't tell me where we're going?" She borrowed that line from Emily, but made it her own by batting her eyelashes and twirling her hair.

He surrendered reluctantly, knowing that he was no match against the eyelash bat/hair twirl combo. "I was thinking we'd head out to the beach today."

Her face perked up. "The beach?"

"We can go for a bike ride, enjoy the ocean, have some dinner. How does that sound?" She thought she detected a trace of apprehension in his voice, beneath his male display of confidence.

"That sounds perfect." She smiled reassuringly, covering his hand with hers.

"Yeah?" He let out the deep breath.

"Yeah, but, my bike isn't exactly in riding condition. It's been in my garage for over a decade now."

"That's okay, I know a place that rents them. Unless you're not up for riding," he said, remembering that she really didn't like to exercise.

"No, I like riding, at least I _used to_ like riding. I mean, how hard can it be? They must have the phrase, 'it's just like riding a bike' for a reason, right?" She bit her bottom lip and held it between her front teeth.

"We'll take it easy," he said, tugging on her hand, inviting her onto his lap.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and sat on one of his knees. "As long as we take it easy, and don't hit too many hills."

"There aren't too many hills at absolute sea level, so I think we'll be okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He kissed her cheek tenderly. "We don't have to ride, if you'd rather just relax."

She curled her body to rest against his, and he wrapped his arms around her. "No. I want to do things with you. We should have some fun together, and a bike ride is perfect. A little exercise, some fresh air and sunshine, followed by relaxing and eating. It doesn't get much better than that."

"Are you sure?" he asked through an impish grin."Because, I can think of a lot of other fun things to do."

"Oh, I bet you can," she purred, snuggling into him. "But, I think I should try to get out of here before the whole town wakes up. I need to go home, take a shower, and get ready. I have a hot date with a sexy man."

"You could take a shower here. It would be faster. You scrub my back; I'll scrub your front," he growled deeply, kissing her neck.

She laughed and shook her head. "Ah, as enticing as that sounds, I'm going to have to decline."

"Can I change your mind? Showering together is good for the environment; it saves water," he said, sliding his palm along the length of her thigh.

She closed her eyes and sighed at the feel of his hypnotic touch. "You probably could, if you had something other than boy soap."

"_Boy_ soap?" he asked, inching his hand higher.

"Yeah, I checked out your shower, and all you have in there is an itchy bar of skin-drying, boy-smelling soap." She shifted in his lap, causing him to emit a deep moan of desire.

"There's no such thing as boy soap," he scoffed. His hand disappeared behind the plaid to caress the bare skin of her hip, his fingertips growing more insistent by the heartbeat.

"Oh yeah? Smell me." She held her wrist up to his nose. He inhaled, then dragged his lips along her arm.

"Hard to tell from there," he said devilishly, travelling up her arm. She giggled, as he flipped back her hair and exposed her neck. "Still can't tell."

She continued giggling when he breathed her in deeply, and nipped her playfully.

"Smells great to me," his voice vibrated against her throat, making her laugh even harder.

When she finally caught her breath, she asked, "What's the verdict? Do I smell like a girl, or a boy?"

"Definitely not a boy," he growled.

"Right, because I use _girl_ soap. That's why."

"I'd venture to say that you not smelling like a boy, and smelling so incredibly delicious, has to do with a lot more than just what kind of soap you use."

"Would _you_ use lavender-vanilla body scrub?"

He blinked a few times. "Uh, not unless I absolutely had to."

"Why not?"

"Because I'd smell like a girl," he conceded through a hearty chuckle.

"Correct. So, if there's _girl_ soap, there must also be _boy_ soap," she gloated. "And you, my friend, have boy soap in your shower. Plus, you don't have any conditioner, and I don't want to have frizzies on our first date.

"But I have conditioning shampoo," he said, proud to have made a point.

She laughed, "Conditioning shampoo? Only a man would fall for that ruse, more than once, anyway."

"What ruse?"

"You don't want to get me started on the public deception that the personal hygiene industry has created with the conditioning shampoo scam," she said, with exaggerated ire. "So, if you don't mind, I'll go home, get to smelling like the girl that I am, and then we'll go on our date."

"I think I could take your mind off the shampoo," he said, pulling her in for a heated kiss.

"There's no question about that," she said, kissing him back thoroughly. Then, more seriously, she said, "Rory should be settled into her hotel room by now, and I asked her to call me this morning."

He immediately understood that her reluctance to take a shower with him probably had less to do with boy soap, or conditioning shampoo, than it had to do with daughter trouble. "Come on, get dressed. I'll go scope out the diner, find the best way to spring you from this joint," he said, while tapping her on the side of her thigh.

She got up then rifled through her bag. While Luke was downstairs, she put on yoga pants, and a clean t-shirt.

When Luke returned, he reported, "Unbelievably, the coast is clear. There are only a few customers down there, and not one from _Hello Magazine_. Actually, nobody at all who would care, except for Caesar. But, he's already had it in his head for years that we have something going on."

"Caesar, really? Why?"

"He said he felt a vibe, or some nonsense. Not important. Let's go while we've got the chance." He stopped her at his door. "But first, a kiss."

"But first, a kiss," she echoed, thinking that maybe Caesar was a lot smarter than he looked.

~*~*~

Luke's truck was packed with everything that he thought they might need. He had blankets, towels, and sun screen. He had two jackets, in case she forgot hers, along with a small cooler full of water and juice, and a backpack full of healthy snacks for him, and some not-so-healthy snacks for her.

He had been anticipating taking her out for quite a while now, and the day had finally arrived. When he pulled his truck into Lorelai's driveway, he was surprised at himself, because even after making love to her, and holding her all night, he was nervous about picking her up. This was their first real date, and he wanted it to go perfectly.

Luke walked along the pathway to her front door, and took a deep breath before knocking. He stepped back and waited for Lorelai's silhouette to darken the window of the door. When it did, she opened it with a radiant smile.

"Hi," she said, stepping aside and inviting him in. "I like your trunks," She tugged on one of the baggy legs, checking out his strong, lean muscles. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him wearing shorts, but she sure remembered his legs.

"Yeah, well, we're heading toward the beach" he said, shrugging his shoulders before kissing her awkwardly on the cheek. She smiled at his shyness, remembering that it was just this morning that he couldn't keep his hands off her.

He licked his lips and admired her beauty. She was wearing a colorful gauze broomstick skirt, a bright green tank, and flat sandals. The multicolored strings of her bathing suit emerged from her shirt and disappeared behind her neck where they were securely tied. A bright yellow scarf held her hair in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck.

"So, shall we?" she asked.

"Yeah, do you have everything? You might need a light jacket," he suggested.

She gestured to her overflowing beach bag and smiled. "Yeah, I think I have everything."

"Did you put sunscreen on? We're going to be in the sun all day."

"Not yet. I figured I'd put it on when we get there."

"But the bottle says to put it on 30 minutes before going out in the sun, or it won't protect properly."

"You actually _read_ the directions?"

"Yes, don't you?"

"Uh, not really. They're just suggestions, aren't they?"

"Come on, hand it over," he said, rolling his eyes and holding his hand out, palm up.

"What?"

"The sunscreen," he insisted.

"Okay, okay. Let me find it," she grumbled, removing her towel and windbreaker from her bag, then digging past magazines and candy bars to get to it. "Here."

He took the bottle of 30 SPF and read the directions, "Apply liberally 30 minutes before exposure to the sun. Reapply after swimming or exercise." He gave her an I-told-you-so look, and twisted off the cap. "You should be using at least a 45 with your complexion. But I guess this will have to do, since mine is only a 15."

"Okay, Dad," she snarked, as he pulled her closer by her wrist.

"I don't want you getting burned on my watch," he said sternly, as he squirted a generous, white ribbon of lotion along her arm. He warmed the cool liquid, as he rubbed it in from her hand, to her shoulder, and across the back of her neck. The distinctive aroma of Coppertone transported her back to childhood summers spent at the cape, igniting her excitement to get to the shore. But, she relaxed under his caresses, and allowed him to apply it on her other arm, where he started at her shoulder and worked his way down.

"Smells good," she said.

"Yeah, I like this smell. It reminds me of summer."

"Me too," she said, leaning in for a kiss. He kissed her lightly then pulled away.

"I'm not finished; you need some on your face," he said.

"Hurry!" She bounced impatiently. "I want to go to the beach. I want to soak up the sun."

"Then hold still, Cheryl Crow," he grumped.

She looked at him quizzically.

"What?" he asked. "I know things."

"I guess you do," she said, impressed.

He squirted a little in the palm of his hand, then waited for her to stand still, and close her eyes. When she did, he dipped his finger in it, then dabbed some lightly on her nose. She smiled under his soft touch, acutely aware of the intimacy this simple act conveyed. He was taking care of her; it felt incredibly comforting. It had been a very long time since anyone actually took care of her. _A woman could get used to this_, she thought, tingling under his touch.

He noticed the freckles that sprinkled across her features, and marveled at the flawlessness of her skin. He smoothed the cream over her carefully, covering her cheeks, then her forehead, making sure he protected her whole face. He didn't want her beautiful skin exposed to any more rays than necessary. When he was finished applying the lotion, she opened her eyes and looked into his.

"One more thing," he said, as he brought his lips to hers. A current of energy shot through them, causing her to let out a soft gasp. His tongue teased at the seam of her lips until they parted, granting him access to taste and to probe. Suddenly, his gentle fingertip touches had turned into hot and urgent grasps, wrapping around her body, and pulling her into him, crushing his mouth into hers.

She thrust her arms under his shirt, exploring his hot skin, as they kissed passionately. Thoughts of going to the beach escaped her, and she wanted nothing more than to rid them both of their clothes, and remain indoors for the rest of the day.

His hands roamed under her cotton tank, his long fingers splayed across her shoulder blades, and the small of her back. He tugged the strings tied at her back, releasing them. Luke savored the flawless expanse under his hands, unimpeded. His kisses left her mouth, travelling down her jaw, and across her chest. She lifted her chin in surrender, offering herself, craving more of his hungry caresses.

He pulled her to him, crushing her body to his, so they meshed from head to toe. Their hearts were already racing, when the phone rang and startled them both. Lorelai flinched, and Luke growled in frustration.

She broke away slowly at first, in a desire-induced fog, before responding to the impatient ringing. "That must be Rory!" she said in explanation, as she broke from his embrace and ran to the phone. "Hello?" she answered eagerly.

Her face dropped slightly. "Hi, Mom." She cradled the phone between her shoulder and her ear, then reached behind her back and tied her bathing suit straps into a haphazard bow. "The line is crystal clear. You don't have to yell… You're coming in fine."

Luke straightened his clothing, tugging at his shorts to try to get them to lie smoothly.

"Oh, um, sure. Is she there?" Luke caught her eye, and she quickly looked away, sliding the triangles of her bathing suit top into place.

"Hi," she said, attempting to sound cheerful. "So, Paris?" She rounded the corner to the kitchen, where Luke couldn't see her, but was still within earshot.

"Weather good?" she asked stiffly, staring out the kitchen window. "Uh-huh, that's kind of what we're having here."

"Yeah. So..." She waited through another awkward pause. "Um, I guess I'll be seeing you in a few weeks… Great, then. Be safe, and watch out for those European men, especially the ones named Randy… Bye." She disconnected, then slammed the phone on its cradle before grabbing her bag. Without looking at Luke, she placed her floppy straw hat on her head, and slipped her sunglasses over her eyes. "Ready?"

"Yeah," he said, holding the door open for her as she sped down the steps in front of him. He locked the door, and had to jog to reach the passenger side of the truck before she did. "Let me get that for you." He opened it, and she gave him a small smile of gratitude.

They rode quietly until they reached the highway. Once the truck reached cruising speed, he reached for her hand and held it. She smiled at him, and instantly relaxed, enjoying the hypnotic lull of the bumpy ride.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"Yeah." She nodded. "Which beach are we going to?" she asked, deeming the conversation about Rory over before it even started.

"I figured we'd go to Clinton Beach, because it's not all paved and commercial, like some other places. They have bike and nature trails, some shops, and a few restaurants on the pier. It should be pretty quiet on a Monday."

"It sounds perfect, it really does," said, as she squeezed his hand. She flipped on the radio. It was already tuned to a classic rock station. She cranked it up, and sang heartily along to Credence Clearwater's 'Proud Mary'. Soon, Luke was tapping the beat on his steering wheel, and they nodded their heads in sync.

~*~*~

TBC


	9. Chapter 9 Tandems, Tank Tops & Truces

**Planting Hope**

**Ch. 9 – Tandems, Tank Tops, and Truces**

**~*~*~**

A/N: Thank you, **Jewels12**, you are such an inspirational person and an awesome beta. I'm so happy that you look over my work and see things I'd never see. **Spooly**, you're awesome!

**~*~*~**

Luke cranked his truck into the sparse parking lot adjacent to the pier, consciously avoiding parking near mini vans with 'Student of the Month' bumper stickers, or car seats. He'd had to remove sticky jam prints from his quarter panels before, and he wanted to avoid the frustration, thank you very much.

Once they parked Lorelai jumped out excitedly before he could open her door, and he met her on the passenger side. "It's a perfect day! Sunny, but breezy," Lorelai marveled. "I love the smell of the ocean. We don't live very far; we should come here more often."

"I come here a couple of times a week," Luke said, reaching over the side, pulling items from the bed of his truck.

Lorelai took the beach bag that he handed to her. "You do?"

"Yeah."

"Why don't I know this?" she asked, bewilderment settling on her face.

"You don't know _everything_ about me," he replied, tucking a blanket under his arm and reaching for her hand.

She slipped her delicate palm inside his, and enjoyed his gentle guidance as they walked to the pier. "Huh," she said contemplatively.

"Huh, what?"

"Just, huh." She narrowed her eyes at him. "What else are you hiding? Do you have human remains in your freezer? An alter ego that appears only during a full moon, causing you to howl, or worse, to watch _Growing Up Gotti_? Oh, are you hiding strange proclivities? Perhaps an unhealthy attraction towards latex?"

He rolled his eyed, but took her teasing in stride. "I'm not hiding anything. I just come down here to run, and to clear my head."

"I wondered why you were always so tan. I thought maybe you had a sunlamp doubling as the plate warmer."

"Nah, sometimes I just need to be outside when I'm not working."

"I can see that. You're an outdoorsy kind of guy." She nodded thoughtfully.

"I usually have lunch at a place on the way home."

"You have lunch at a _place_? What kind of place? Do they feed you rattlesnakes, no matter how they taste? They shove them down your face?

"You kidding? Didn't you see _Supersize Me_? That stuff will kill you," he groused. "It's a family restaurant, owned by friends of my folks. I used to go so they could see that I was all right. But, now I go to make sure they're okay."

"So they _know_ you? You have a _Luke's_?"

"I guess you could say that. They have a great dinner menu. Though, they'd never let us order from it. I'd like to take you there sometime."

"That sounds fun." She squeezed his hand. "I'd love to see Luke's Luke's."

He smiled broadly. "Good."

When they entered the Bike Peddler's Rental Shop, they were greeted with the smell of incense, and the sound of sitar music playing in the background. A very thin man in his early thirties, with long, scraggly blond hair, a Hawaiian shirt, and flip-flops was deftly kicking a hacky sack. He bounced it off his knee a few times, then he knocked it higher into the air, where he caught it in one hand. He gave them a friendly smile and bowed deeply, hands held in front of his chest, palms together, as if in prayer.

He introduced himself as Darren. When he finally got around to looking up their reservations, he said, "So, Danes, Danes. Oh, here it is. Right on. Two adult bikes, one ladies', one men's, full day."

"Yep, that's it," Luke said. "Oh, and some 50 SPF sun block, if you have any." Lorelai let out an irritated puff of air.

"Sure do. Right behind you." Darren gestured.

Luke chose a tube, and slid it across the counter. Noticing Lorelai's reluctance, he said, "It's for the top of your shoulders. You'll get burned to a crisp in that tank top, if you don't use stronger sun protection."

"Absolutely, that's where cyclists get burned the worst," Darren agreed.

"Not you too, Dude! I thought you were cool!" Lorelai appealed to him.

"Hey, sorry to disappoint you, but I have to side with your old man. Skin cancer isn't sexy. It's a reality. With the ozone layer getting thinner every day, you need to take responsibility for your own health. It's the human karmic wheel of waste and materialism coming full circle."

Luke tried desperately not to roll his eyes, but she could see right through him.

"You guys seem to be on the same wavelength; you want to try the tandem? There's a basket in the back for your beach gear."

Luke began, "Uh, no. I don't th…"

"I don't know, my _old man_ isn't as adventurous as he once was," Lorelai interrupted, shaking her head sadly.

"You _want_ to try the tandem?" Luke asked, raising his eyebrows in question.

"Can we?" she pleaded. "It looks like so much fun! I've always wanted to sing the 'Bicycle Built for Two' song. And this would be perfect, because we'd actually be on a bicycle built for two."

"I don't know," he said skeptically, knowing that she wasn't much of an athlete. He wasn't worried that he might have to make up for her lack of strength; he had plenty of cardio and leg fitness for both of them. He was more concerned that a tandem might be beyond her skill level, and he didn't want to put her in any danger, not matter how remote.

She saw the doubt in his eyes. "Please, Luke? Please, please?" she begged. "It'll be fun. Come on, take a chance, live a little!"

His hesitancy didn't stand a snowball's chance in Hell against her enthusiasm. He sighed, and said to Darren, "Okay, we'll take the tandem." Lorelai bounced on the balls of her feet, wrapped her arms around his neck, and plastered a solid kiss squarely on Luke's lips.

Luke was surprised, but he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back, only to pull away quickly, self-conscious of their public display.

"It's all good. Expressions of love are always welcome here," Darren said, as he slid the paperwork over for the pair to sign.

After Darren adjusted the seats for Luke and Lorelai's heights, they loaded the gear into the wire basket. When everything was fastened with bungee cords, Luke hopped on the front, held the bike steady, and waited for Lorelai to fix her skirt, and get situated.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yessiree! Let's hit the road, Jack!"

They pushed off, and immediately, Lorelai gasped.

"You all right?" he asked.

"Yeah, just caught me by surprise," she said. Her squirms caused the bike to hitch from side to side.

They rode for a few more yards, and Lorelai squealed. "What's wrong?" he asked, a little more concerned this time.

"Nothing, I'm good!"

"Okay, as long as you say so," he replied. "We have a curve coming up. I'm going to turn left, just keep pedaling," he instructed.

"Uh, okay," she said, holding on tightly.

When they reached the curve, Luke veered left. But suddenly, the back-end jerked and twitched, causing the rear tire to slide sideways across the slick, sand-covered concrete. Lorelai's tire went off the edge of the path, stopping them immediately, and they tipped toward the sandy shoulder. Lorelai screamed, jumped off, and darted several feet away from the bike. Luke stayed on and held it up. "What was that?" he asked, perplexed by her erratic behavior.

"I don't like that bike," she announced.

"But you _wanted_ to try the tandem."

"I know. I thought it would be fun, but… "

"It just takes some getting used to, that's all."

"Can we just push it? It's a beautiful day for a stroll. Or, you can ride it, and I'll walk."

He pulled the tandem out of the sand, and stood it on its kickstand. "Why don't we wait for a minute before we get back on?"

"Okay, waiting is good." She nodded. Her fingers automatically went to her mouth and she nibbled on her cuticles.

He pulled her into a reassuring hug. After a few minutes, he asked, "Ready to go back to the bike, and try again?"

She nodded, and followed him to stand near her seat.

He removed her sunglasses gently, and looked in her eyes. "So, what are you _really_ afraid of?" he asked, waiting patiently for her answer.

"I'm not afraid," she said adamantly.

"Okay, you're not afraid. So what's making you uncomfortable?"

"Nothing. Can't I just walk? Please? I'll be okay."

"Lorelai, talk to me."

She took a deep breath, and let it out before the words came. "I can't stop, and you might not stop when I want to," she admitted, tucking rogue strands of hair behind her ears, then crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Okay," he nodded. "I do have the brakes. I can see that. Anything else?"

She looked above his shoulder, and focused far across the bike path. "I don't like that I can't steer."

"So, that was the reason for all the wiggling around?"

"Yeah."

"Anything else?" he asked, his hands resting gently on her elbow.

She nodded. "Umm, I don't want to fall."

Luke let out a long breath, buying himself some time to figure out what to do. He was the one who came up with a casual day of biking and sunning, and felt responsible for the outcome of their first date. He was beginning to wonder if they should have just gone to dinner, like most people do on first dates. But it was too late for that, so he decided to address each of her concerns separately.

"It's been a really long time since you've ridden a bike, right?"

"Yeah, maybe too long." She frowned.

"Even if you were on a single bike, you'd be a little shaky for the first few minutes. I can understand that this is different, and you might have been expecting something else. Give it a chance. In a few minutes, we'll be zooming along, and you'll see that it's fun.

"And if we aren't zooming along?" she asked.

"If you still don't like it, we'll stop riding. I promise. But, you said yourself that they must have the phrase, 'It's just like riding a bike,' for a reason," he negotiated. She gave him a smile, and he could see that she was beginning to relax.

"I'm going to hold the bike, and you get on the seat," he said. "Go ahead."

She climbed on, and held the handlebars so firmly that her hands turned white.

"Okay, now put your foot down," he coaxed.

She did, and easily reached the ground.

"I'm going to let go, and you hold the bike up," he said.

When he did, she smiled. "Oh, it's not that heavy."

"No, it's not heavy at all. So, if we slow _way_ down, and you think we're going to fall, you can put your foot on the ground. And, in case aliens abduct me, because that's the only reason I'd abandon you on this bike, you can hold it up by yourself."

She was a little embarrassed at her unfounded fear, and smiled shyly.

"See the pathway to the break wall?" His finger traced the slightly curved trail ahead of them. "That's where we're going."

She bit her lip and said, "It looks really far."

"It's less than three miles, and we can take our time. There aren't any sharp turns, and there are no cars. So we only have to worry about the occasional pedestrian, or a few other bikes. We don't have to turn much at all. Just leave the steering to me, and we'll make it to the jetty in one piece. That's where we'll stop and spend our time, relaxing on the beach."

She followed his intended path, and felt more comfortable about where they were going.

"As for the braking," Luke continued, "as long as it's safe, I promise to stop if you tell me to. We can even do a few practice stops, if you want to."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," he reassured her. "Haven't you ever ridden on the back of a motorcycle before?"

"Yeah, a long time ago, even longer ago than I've ridden a bike."

"But, you gave up control when you did that," he pointed out.

"I know, but on the back of a motorcycle, you're prepared to give up all control. You don't have handlebars, or pedals. You just hang on, and put your faith in the driver. With a tandem, there are handle bars, and it's weird not being able to break or steer."

"I understand that," he said sincerely.

She looked at him and said softly, "Luke, I'm sorry. I'll try it again."

"You don't have to be sorry. I'll get us there in one piece, okay?"

She nodded. "It's just different than I expected."

He kissed her softly, then rested his forehead against hers. "It's okay," he said, before moving to the front, and climbing on again. "Ready? Do you have your feet on the pedals?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."

On the count of three, they were on their way again. "You okay?" he asked.

"I'm good," she said. "Can we practice stopping?"

"Just say the word, and…"

"Stop!" she yelled, though an unsuppressed giggle.

Luke immediately hit the brakes, slowed to a quick, but smooth stop, and put his left foot down.

Still laughing, she said, "Okay, that was easy. I just wanted to make sure you'd stop."

He smiled at the sound of her laughter, and they were off again. They hit their stride and pedaled leisurely. Lorelai soon forgot that she even had reservations about the tandem and relaxed, going so far as closing her eyes to feel the soft breeze on her face. She even let go of the handlebars to stretch her arms, and allow the wind to lift and lower them like wings, depending upon the angle of her hands.

Once he was assured of her wellbeing, Luke pointed out the collection of inns that dotted the shore-side of the bike trail. Some had a cozy cottage feel, like the Dragonfly. But others were more like stately mansions, complete with columns, formal gardens, and iron gates. "I always wanted to bring you here to see these inns. I thought you'd like them," he said.

"They're incredible," she marveled, taking mental notes and design ideas from almost every establishment, hoping to someday use them at her own inn. They pointed out things that caught their eye, and shared ideas of how some things, like hanging ferns or a weathervane, could be used at the Dragonfly.

They passed a few cyclists along the way, and never failed at nodding or giving a cheery greeting. It wasn't long before Lorelai began singing:

"_Daisy, Daisy,_

_Give me your answer do!_

_I'm half crazy,_

_All for the love of you!" _

He smirked at the half-crazy line, thinking that it was an understatement. They both relished the intimacy and contentment of riding together. He was amazed at how much moxie she had for most business and social situations, but one little issue could revert her to the insecure, vulnerable Lorelai, that she kept securely hidden from most people. The dichotomy of Lorelai's personality had Luke happily perplexed, and he couldn't help humming along when she sang:

"_It won't be a stylish marriage,_

_I can't afford a carriage._

_But you'll look sweet, upon the seat_

_Of a bicycle built for two."_

Once they reached the end of the path they parked the tandem near a light post, and carried their gear across the sand to a secluded spot, not far from the water's edge.

"How about here?" he suggested.

"Perfect," she agreed, dumping her gear where they stood. He unfolded the old, cotton blanket, and they each took two corners, allowed it to billow in the breeze, and let it drop to spread evenly across the sand. They secured the corners with bags or shoes, to keep the wind from lifting them.

Without preamble, Luke removed his shirt and sat next to Lorelai. He held his sturdy, athletic physique with casual indifference, even though he had every right to be vain. She admired the ease with which he carried his body. She felt a twinge of envy at his nonchalance, feeling less than completely confident herself, disrobing in the unforgiving light of day.

Lorelai rummaged through the ice chest, found some water, and brought out two bottles. He took them from her wordlessly, and opened hers, then his. They both drank as they watched the rippling water lap at the shoreline.

She pulled her shirt over her head, and tossed it aside. "Beautiful." She admired the blue, cloudless sky.

"It is," he said, having a hard time taking his eyes off her. However, when it came to Lorelai, he had several years of training at gentlemanly eye aversion. He looked out to sea when he detected her self-consciousness.

She smiled shyly, and lifted her hat from the top of her bag, then placed it securely on her head.

"Don't forget your sunscreen," he reminded her.

"Oy with the sunscreen, already!" she said, shimmying her skirt under her hips, and rolling it up before shoving it in her bag. "I need some rays to penetrate through to my pasty white skin. Or, you can just call me Casper for the rest of the summer. Your choice."

"It's your resemblance to the friendly ghost that requires you to use proper sun block," he grumped.

"Okay, okay! I'll put on your gazillion SPF, if it will get you off my back."

He chuckled. "Not likely, but it's a start."

They each slathered their own front side with their respective lotion. Lorelai reclined, pulled the hat over her eyes, took a deep breath, and relaxed before extending her hand. She found Luke's waiting for hers, and they linked fingers while they lay back, relaxing in the late morning sun.

After sunning for a while, Luke sat up, with his knees bent and his arms resting on them, enjoying the serenity of the Long Island sound. He looked at Lorelai, and admired her beauty. Her usually translucent skin had taken on a soft sheen of lotion coupled with perspiration, and sparkled in the sun. His eyes moved form her covered face to the soft curve of her breasts, tucked securely behind the triangles of fabric.

His gaze migrated to the taught skin of her abdomen, rising and falling rhythmically, convincing him that she was sleeping peacefully. He raked his eyes to the edge of her floral bikini bottoms, gazing from side to side, across the flair of her hips. The material lifted slightly over each hipbone. The smooth, rounded tops of her thighs held his eyes in fascination, as he took in the incredible length of them, leading past her slightly bent knees to her curvaceous calves, and her pedicured toenails.

He was thinking that he might never be able to get enough of her beauty, when he felt her fingertips lightly resting on his back, just above his trunks.

"How you doing?" he asked.

"It's getting hot," she said lazily. She lifted the hat about a foot away from her face, to shield her eyes from the sun, and to look at him. She noticed how the deep blue of his eyes matched the water behind him, and how the sun revealed the lighter shades of his hair, bringing out strands of shimmering copper and bronze.

"You ready to go in the water?"

"Yeah." She sat up, placed the hat next to her, and adjusted her straps. He stood and offered her a hand to help her up.

Luke went straight in, oblivious to the temperature, allowing his feet and calves to be submerged.

Lorelai dipped her toe in when the tiny waves retreated, then backed up quickly as they advanced. "It's freezing!" she complained dramatically.

"Feels pretty good to me," he said. He went in a little further, then walked out to stand by her. "You going in?" he asked.

"I don't think so. There's a lot of spinach fettuccini floating around. That's gross," she said, affecting a cringe.

"It's a sign of a healthy continental shelf. The algae, or seaweed, creates a rich habitat for a host of sea creatures."

She looked at him curiously. "Okay, Jacques Cousteau, where'd you dock the _Calypso_?"

"I'm just saying it won't hurt you."

"Well, it's kind of cold anyway," she said, allowing her feet to go in a little further as she got used to the water.

"Are _you_ going in?" she asked.

"I just need to cool off a little," he said, wading in up to his knees.

While his back was turned, Lorelai kicked some water onto him and laughed. He rolled his eyes as she splashed him some more, soaking the back of his trunks. "You really think that's funny?" he asked her, lifting one eyebrow.

"Yep," she said, playfully, before splashing him again. He cupped his hands and scooped some water at her, but she ran away giggling. Then she ran back, and splashed him again, sending salt water flying into his face. He stopped, took a deep breath and submerged his entire body, including his head, under the surface.

When he resurfaced, he silently wiped his eyes. Unable to suppress his smile, he approached her. She backed away, her giggles causing her to double over, preventing her from moving quickly.

When she saw that he wasn't stopping, she turned and ran offshore. He continued to trudge toward her, with a look of playful determination in his eyes. "You really think you can outrun me?" he asked.

"Yes," she gasped, retreating even further. Her eyes took in his lean muscles and solid, fit body and she reconsidered. "Well, maybe, uh, I don't know. What are you going to do to me?"

"What do you think I should do to you?" He gave her a half-smile.

"Nothing. Forgive and forget. Let bygones be bygones." She laughed even harder, hoping that he'd be amused.

"Nothing, huh? So, you don't think I should splash you back?"

"Nope."

"You're right, that would be too nice. How about if I just gave you a big hug?" He gestured to his soaking body and she shook her head. "Come on, how about a hug, Lorelai?" He was getting closer to her, as she put her hands up in defense, and ceased walking backwards.

"No!" she squealed.

"Just a little hug." He was on her in a few steps and wrapped his arms around her in a snug embrace.

She cried, "Ah, you're so cold!" They remained hugging, as Lorelai caught her breath. "You got my suit all wet," she whined.

He laughed. "And who splashed first?"

"Okay, but you don't have to be so mean."

"Mean? I'll show you mean!" He grasped her around the waist. She screamed and giggled as he picked her up and twirled her around, soaking her even more, before placing her feet softly on the sand.

"Okay, are we even now, meanie?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes, we're even now. Truce?"

"Truce."

They walked back to the water so Luke could rinse the sand off his legs. While he was wading, Lorelai kicked some more water on him, and ran away chuckling again. "Hey! I thought we had a truce!" Luke yelled.

"Truce? Did you say _truce_? My mistake, I thought you said _sluice_!" she claimed, her smile giving the sun a run for its money.

"I'll sluice you!" he said, catching up to her and sweeping her into his arms. She screamed and giggled, as he carried her toward the sea.

"No!" she screamed. "I'm sorry! I was just kidding."

He didn't say anything, just held her securely, and marched toward the water.

"Please, Luke! No! Don't!"

He remained silent.

"I was just playing; please don't throw me in." She kicked her legs and clasped her arms around his neck, holding on tightly.

"Throw you in? I hadn't thought of that. But come to think of it, that's a great idea."

"Noooo! Please! I'm sorry! Don't get my hair wet; it will take forever to dry. And when it does, it will be a wild, curly mess. It's our first date, and I want to look pretty. Please, come on."

He was laughing now, a low throaty rumble. "Good try, but you always look pretty to me."

"I'll do anything you want! I'll eat broccoli. I'll kill my own spiders. I'll forgo the extra bacon on my next cheeseburger. Come on, please!" She continued to plead, as he stood thigh high in the water. He swung her from side to side, pretending to count before throwing her in.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and whispered, "Please?"

He stopped swinging. "You don't have to make any more promises, Lorelai," he said quietly.

"I was just playing," she said, her brows furrowed in concern.

"You really think I'd throw you in?" he asked, with a touch of regret in his voice.

"I don't know."

He paused, and thought he felt a tremor run through her, before he asked again, more seriously. "You _really_ think I'd throw you in?"

She looked into his calm, steady eyes, and knew instantly that he never would. She shook her head.

"That's right," he said, kissing her lips softly at first, then more insistently. She tilted her head, and pressed her mouth to his, hungrily. They slid their tongues around each other's as the kiss grew heated.

When they parted, Lorelai asked, "Aren't you going to put me down?"

"Here?" he asked.

"No, too deep." she said, closing in on another kiss. "Mmmm, you're salty."

He smiled and kissed her more insistently, before moving to shallower water. "How about here?"

"Too deep," she said.

He moved even further toward shore, so he was ankle deep. "Here?"

She nodded, and he set her down gently. When she landed, she turned to face him and said, "One more smooch." He was more than happy to oblige.

As they walked back to their site, he stated, "You look hungry."

"How can I _look_ hungry?"

"I can always tell. You get a look."

"Well, for your information, mister. I'm starving."

"Good thing I brought some stuff for lunch," he said, unzipping his backpack, and pulling out the items. "Here you go, sandwiches – this one's yours –chips and Red Vines for you, fruit for both of us, and edamame for me."

"Raw soy beans? You so got shafted." She smirked, picking up the package of Red Vines and biting on the plastic wrapping to get to them quickly.

"Didn't your mom ever tell you to save your dessert for last?"

"She told me to save my 'most precious gift' for marriage, too. And, we all know how that turned out."

"Yeah," he said, wondering if he detected a hint of regret in her words, although superficially, they seemed lighthearted.

Lorelai picked the tomatoes out of her roast beef sandwich and looked to Luke. He lifted the top slice of bread and held it out to her, and she placed them on his sliced turkey. She then lifted her hand, gesturing for him to wait. When he complied, she transferred the romaine lettuce as well. He felt a little defeated that the only vegetables in her lunch had been deflected to him. He thought he might be able to sneak them in unnoticed, but she was, predictably, not falling for it.

They ate quietly, watching the sandpipers running up and down the beach, their tiny feet moving so quickly, that they looked as if they were floating on a blur.

Silence hung thickly in the air, until Luke felt he should say something. "I know you carry around the guilt of disappointing them. But you've done an exceptional job with Rory. She's smart, and beautiful. But, even more importantly, she's genuine, and has a good heart. She'd never hurt anyone. I bet your parents don't let a day go by without saying a prayer of thanks that you didn't listen to them. Because if you had, you wouldn't have Rory."

She contemplated his words for several minutes before finally responding. "You're right. Rory's been an exceptional daughter. She learned to walk early, she began talking in complete sentences, and she taught herself to read by the time she was four. She's kind and compassionate. She never whined, or asked for things that she knew we couldn't afford. She didn't even complain about how much she missed having her father around, when I knew that it was breaking her heart every time he let her down," Lorelai said, focusing on a sailboat far offshore. "She's exceeded my expectations her entire life."

Luke listened intently and scooted to sit behind her, with his legs stretched out protectively on either side of her.

"But, this time she disappointed me," Lorelai admitted, her voice cracking as a tear slipped from her eye. "I never knew how badly I hurt my parents by disappointing them, until now, until my own child disappointed me. They must have cried, and felt hurt, and blamed themselves, too." She bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

"The worst part is, she's been such a good person over the years, that I've been holding her to expectations that aren't human. She disappointed me _one time_. And instead of keeping her near me, while she needs me, I tag-teamed with my mother, and had her shipped away to Europe for the summer."

He wrapped his arms around her securely, with his chin resting on her shoulder. She leaned back into his warm embrace, and closed her eyes while a few silent tears escaped. If there was anything unusual happening on the beach that day, it was the fact that she took the strength that he offered, without hesitation.

When her tears subsided, she said, "Luke?"

"Yeah?"

"I hope you know that it's not a matter of trust between you and me. I want to tell you what happened, I really do. But, I don't want you to feel this way. I couldn't stand it if you were disappointed in Rory, too. Especially after what you just said about her. And I _know_ she wouldn't want to disappoint you, of all people."

He knew how deeply disappointment could hurt. His sister had disappointed him regularly throughout their lives, especially after his father died. And each time, it had cut him to the quick. Even harder to swallow, were the disappointments from Jess, for whom Luke felt even more responsible.

"Whatever happened between you and Rory will be resolved. I know it's hard now, because she's so far away. But your parenting instincts have always been impeccable. I'm sure you did the right thing. And if you didn't, what's the worst that could happen? She gets to see Europe with her grandmother. At least you know she's safe."

She nodded her head, and pulled his arms tightly around her.

He kissed her softly behind her ear and whispered, "Lorelai, you don't have to tell me a thing. I just want you to know that I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you. And this thing we're doing, me and you. I'm in. I am all in." She held onto his words, and felt her apprehensions float away. And for the first time in her life, she didn't feel alone.

~*~*~

TBC


	10. Chapter 10 Getting Dirtier

**Planting Hope**

**Chapter 10 – Getting Dirtier**

**Dear Readers, if you're still there, I'm so sorry this took so long. I'll try to finish and post the next, and probably the last chapter of this story, much quicker than I did for this chapter. Somewhere along the way, I lost my mojo. Thank you for your patience.**

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**Jewels12, my dear friend and my dear Spooly! Thank you so much for betaing this chapter for me. Without you, I'd have more redundancies. Without you, I'd have more redundancies. Thanks so much for the hard work and for the praise that you so generously heap onto my stories. Once again, you are the best!**

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By the time they made it back to Lorelai's house, the sun hung low in the sky and a gentle breeze cooled the summer air, whipping her gauzy shirt around her legs, and sending loose strands of hair to tickle Luke's face. Waiting patiently for Lorelai to dig through her tote and to retrieve her house keys, Luke clutched the grocery bags that he held, lifting first one knee, then the other to keep each bag from slipping.

"Hiya, kids!" a shrill, raspy voice called from the side of the porch. They bristled with dread, knowing instantly that it was Babette. Lorelai's height-challenged neighbor was striding over to them in her garden clogs and a floral apron, with pockets full of spades and mini rakes.

Lorelai only looked up from her beach bag long enough to say, "Hi, Babette." Then she rummaged through it with more zeal.

As Babette scaled the stairs with some difficulty, Luke nodded to the woman that he knew was a serious contender for the title of Town's Biggest Gossip.

"So," Babette said, looking expectantly from one guilty face to the other.

"So," Luke breathed, then caught Lorelai's eye. She shrugged before she overturned her entire bag onto the porch floor, intent on quickening their escape from Babette's suspicious ogling.

"Did you have a nice time at the beach?" Babette asked with a twinkle in her eye. It was no use asking her how she knew; their clothes, gear, and pink-tinged skin gave it away. "You've been gone an awful long time."

Lorelai muscled an insincere smile over her grimace as she snagged the keys from the top of the pile, causing her damp, sandy towel to unfurl across the porch and stop at Babette's feet. "Yes, we had a wonderful time at the beach."

"Well, that's good, because you have to watch out for seagulls. You know, one time, when Morey and me were dating, much like you two." She cast her bait and waited for a nibble of a reaction. When she got none, she continued, "We went to the beach, and one of those damn birds pecked at his sunglasses."

"Sounds like the marine version of a Hitchcock film," Lorelai said, fumbling hastily to find the right key.

"Coulda been, only he wasn't wearin' the glasses," Babette reminisced. "Actually, he wasn't wearing anything. He got pretty bad sunburn that day. So did I, as a matter of fact. Especially on my…"

"Aw, jeez," Luke grumbled, and turned his uncomfortable gaze to Lorelai.

"Oh, wow. Look at the time," Lorelai said, glancing at her bare wrist. "I mean, if I had a watch on, it'd probably be… I don't know. What time?" She looked at Luke, appealing for backup.

"Uh, dinner time." He gestured to the crumbling 'Joe's Atlantic Fish Market' sacks that filled his arms. Lorelai cringed at the new ammunition he had just handed Babette.

"Oh, so you too are having dinner? What'cha cookin', Luke?" She stood on her tiptoes to peek into the bag. He instinctively turned away from her, but not before she caught a glimpse of the wine and crusty baguette that were near the top of the bag.

As if on cue, Lorelai's phone rang. She hastily shoved a good portion of the towel back into her bag, with one hand, while trying to master the lock and keys with her other. "Oh, well, hate to rush you, Babette, but the phone." She gestured with a nod toward the door.

"Yeah, you'd better get that. It might be Rory callin' all the way from Europe. I tell ya, some folks get all the luck. I hope that doll face of yours has a great time with her grandmother, and whatever argument you two have is fixed right away." Babette's knowledge of her fallout with Rory caused a small gasp of surprise to surge from Lorelai's chest.

"Here, let me help," Luke offered, transferring both bags to one arm and taking the keys from a slightly shaken Lorelai. The phone rang insistently as he found the correct key and slid it into the lock. He kicked the door open ahead of him, and Lorelai vaulted over the pile of beach paraphernalia at the threshold. The answering machine beeped and Lorelai snatched the receiver from its cradle, just as she heard her own voice begin the greeting. "Hello?"

Luke put his bags down in the foyer and returned to the porch to gather what had been dumped. "Well, Babette, thanks for visiting," he said, not too subtly.

"Yeah," she called from the top of the steps, waving over her shoulder as she hobbled down. "You two have a nice dinner, now."

"Thanks," he said, shutting the door firmly, resigning to the thought that she was probably in a hurry to call the rest of the staff at _Hello Magazine _and give them the scoop on his day with Lorelai.

Luke looked over to Lorelai, who was frowning into the receiver.

"Oh, hello," she said briskly, turning away from him. She stood behind the couch, poking absentmindedly at the frayed fabric near the seams, and responded, "No, just walked in the door. How are you doing?"

Luke wanted to give her some privacy, so he took the bags to the kitchen to get things ready for dinner. He emptied and folded them neatly, trying not to eavesdrop on their conversation, but he found it difficult to refrain from focusing on Lorelai's every inflection.

"I'm good." She nodded, hoping that her actions would make her words sound more convincing.

After a long pause, Lorelai smiled and her voice softened. "Bark and Cheese, really?" She rounded the couch and sat with her feet tucked under her skirt. "Exactly the same? Was there a tiny, little Italian dog in a basket barking the whole time you were there?"

Luke recognized by her intonation that they had reached a turning point in their conversation. The tensions had thawed between Lorelai and her daughter. He let out a long sigh of relief and proceeded to prepare dinner. He opened the wine, feeling comfort in hearing Lorelai's silly giggles and the familiarity that she reserved only for Rory. He wondered how he fit into the exclusive Gilmore Girl Club, and what his role might be as their relationship flourished.

Luke searched her cupboards and found a cast iron skillet that was suitable to sizzle the wafer-thin Atlantic Sea Bass fillets. A small, affectionate smile played over his lips as he realized that her spice rack held flavors that had expired years ago, and the only one with a broken seal was the salt. He'd have to do something about that, he thought, as he listened to her cheerful voice quip into the phone. "Did you have a nice piece of cheese with your coffee?"

Lorelai's laughter from the other room set his heart at ease as he listened to her reminisce and tease her daughter about the perils of ordering in Italian. He knew nothing could progress between them as a couple, if things weren't right with the mother/daughter team first. He rolled a lemon on the countertop to release its juices, before he squeezed it into his bowl of marinade.

While Luke was pouring the sauvignon blanc he heard her exclaim, "But cheese you were brought… That you proceeded to eat… Aha! You admit it was a mistake. You _did_ say cheese." He shook his head at their silliness, but smiled as he brought her the goblet. She turned up her face and thanked him with a soft kiss and an easy smile.

Luke went back to making dinner, feeling relieved that Lorelai and Rory had patched up their differences. Setting his mind on the food preparation that always brought him to a place of serenity; he fell into a rhythm of chopping and whisking. _Who says men can't multitask, _he thought, as he simultaneously worked on the fish, two side dishes, and a salad.

Suddenly, her voice dropped to a near whisper, "Yeah?... It's okay… Oh, honey." Her voice cracked, followed by another drawn-out silence. "You will… okay… okay."

The noises from the kitchen ceased. He perceived the change in her tone and tuned into it with sonar-like precision.

Lorelai emitted a stunned, "Oh," and Luke put his knife down, attentive to her emotions, sending up a silent prayer that the reconciliation would endure.

"Honey, I don't know," she contemplated worriedly into the phone. "A letter, huh?" Silence ensued while Lorelai considered Rory's words. "Well, get it to me, and I will get it to him."

In the silent kitchen, Luke speculated as to whom 'he' was. He thought it might be a professor, or another person at Yale. But, he figured it was probably Rory's father, which would explain Lorelai's hesitancy in telling Luke the whole story.

After several long moments, he heard Lorelai's voice lilt as she closed the conversation with her daughter, making a concerted effort to lighten the mood.

"Have some espresso and limburger for me. I love you, too. Bye."

Luke's heart jumped when he heard Lorelai say those three words. He hoped that she would soon tear down the remaining barriers that were left standing between them so he could hear the same phrase whispered in his ear.

Lorelai stood with a contemplative expression, turning the phone over in her hand while Luke went to her. "So, that was Rory, I take it," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"That was Rory." Lorelai exhaled. "She's good."

"Are you _both_ good?" he asked, pulling her closer, her soft curves melding into his strong frame.

"We're both good."

"I knew you two would work it out."

"I guess going to Europe was the right thing for her. She realized that she messed things up, and that her behavior could potentially hurt a lot of people. But she wants to fix it now." Lorelai's relief was apparent in her words and her demeanor.

"I'm glad," he whispered sincerely, brushing his lips across her forehead. Lorelai lifted her face to touch her lips against his. They met softly, just a simple caress, but it caused his body to react to hers. A small gasp escaped her lips, and just like that, the embrace changed from supportive and understanding, to deep and desirable.

He felt the heat rising, but knew he'd need to stifle his desires for just a while longer so that they could have dinner. Luke knew Lorelai, and realized that she must be famished by now. The meal was part of his first date plan; the rest could wait. "I need to finish dinner," he said, tearing himself away from her.

She whined momentarily at their separation, but quickly realized that she was starving for more than just Luke. "Oh, it smells amazing," she said, poking around at the stove, lifting lids and allowing the aroma to waft toward her.

He turned her around gently by the shoulders and led her to the table. Pulling out a chair, he said, "Allow me."

Never one to argue with a chivalrous man, let alone a sexy-as-hell chivalrous man, she sat while he finished cooking, then allowed him to serve her.

They drank the wine and ate heartily through their relaxed, yet flirty dinner. Luke and Lorelai enjoyed each other's company, talking about anything from the weather, to where they'd both like to be ten years from now, getting to know each other on a more intimate level than ever before.

As dinner wound down, their conversation lulled into a comfortably quiet evening. "Is this weird for you, at all?" she asked him intently, swirling her wine, watching the pale liquid catch the light and throw it back in flashes of color reflected from around the room.

"You mean dinner?" he asked, figuring that she probably meant more.

"I mean us. All of it."

He set his fork down and lifted his chin. "It's not weird at all. I've been thinking about it, and everything feels right. What about you? Is it weird for you?" He held his breath, awaiting her reply.

"The only thing weird is that it isn't weird at all," she answered. He exhaled audibly and his smile encouraged her to elaborate. "Nothing's really changed; we're still the same monosyllabic Luke and mile-a-minute Lorelai."

"_Nothing's_ changed?" He raised his eyebrows in a teasing question.

"I mean, aside from the physical aspect changing, we're still the same people."

Luke nodded. "The same, but magnified."

"Yeah, magnified to the degree of an electron microscope."

"Is that bad?" he asked, immediately beginning to worry again about having come on too strong in their newly intimate relationship.

"No," she reassured, "it's just more intense than I ever thought it could be."

"Is it too intense? We could tone it down. _I_ could tone it down."

She immediately replied, "No, _I_ don't want to tone it down. Unless _you_ want to tone it down. Then I'm all for the toning down, down toning, detoning, untoning." After a few moments of quiet contemplation on both their parts, she asked, "So, are you for reverse toning

"Me? Want to tone it down? No. No way." He emphasized his words with a determined shake of his head.

"Good, because I'm not really for any of the anti-toning. I'm a pro-toner at heart," Lorelai admitted.

Luke reached across the table and took her hand. Holding it gently, he brushed his thumb over her knuckles and said, "I like this, though. Us talking about it."

"Beats the pants off of yelling about it."

"Pants off, huh? There's an idea." He raised her hand and kissed it. "I am sorry about the fighting, though. We got off to a pretty… extreme start."

"Extreme, but amazing," she agreed. "And today was wonderful. It was the perfect first date."

He smiled proudly. "It was?"

"Yes. Everything was great. The beach - you ordered the perfect weather, by the way - and the bike, although that was a little scary at first. Dinner. Everything was perfect. Thank you."

He stood holding her hand. "You're welcome, but it's not over yet."

"No?" A crooked smile played on her lips as she looked up at him.

"Well, the _planned_ activities for the day are over," Luke said, tugging her to her feet.

She stood before him and ran her fingertips across his chiseled jaw, taking in the rough stubble that covered his cheek. "So that leaves us with just some spontaneous indoor sports."

"Let's see if anything interesting comes to mind," he said, pulling her into his arms, and kissing her softly.

"We'll see what pops up," she said, as her smile met his.

Lorelai ran the tip of her tongue, soft and tickling, across the seam of his mouth. He accepted it eagerly, and sucked hers in, caressing and tasting her with each twirl. They tilted their heads and kissed again. This time, their lips were searching and wanting. Hungry desire that had been kept under wraps all day was finally allowed to ignite and engulf them, making them breathless, with their heads spinning, and their hearts pounding.

Enrapt in the sensuous soul-satisfying kisses, they remained in the kitchen, allowing their senses to become heightened as they explored each other. Lorelai kissed the delicate area below his ear, and felt his body react, hot and hard against her belly. She inhaled a lungful of air with a deep hiss, as she pressed her soft body into his strong frame.

Luke trailed kisses to her jaw and down her neck. Instinctively, his hand brushed against the bottom of her breast, his thumb sliding softly over her swimsuit, lightly brushing over her responsive nipple. He kissed her throat, insistently nudging her chin up so more of her soft, vulnerable flesh was available to him. She relished the feel of his stubble, rasping against her sensitized skin and felt her knees give way as she began losing all control. Luke tightened his grip around her waist and held her. She no longer had grasp for self-control as she gave her all to him, a little more with each kiss - kisses that affected her in ways that she had never imagined.

"I want you," he breathed against her throat, causing her to shudder with desire.

Still embracing, she stepped backwards into the entry and pulled him with her. "Let's go upstairs," she whispered into their kiss. He lifted her flimsy t-shirt over her head, minimally interrupting their kiss, and tossed it away carelessly over his shoulder.

She shook her head, still moving backwards. He kept his lips on her and followed. "Shower," she suggested.

His lips turned up to a mischievous smile. "No. Girl soap," he protested playfully, in spite of the surge of desire that flared at the thought of lathering up with Lorelai. She laughed into another kiss, and took a few more steps until her heels reached the bottom stair.

He took advantage of her laugh, and pressed his mouth to hers in a crushing kiss. He furrowed his fingers deep into her curls and pulled her to him. Hot and hungry, they consumed each other in passion. He pulled at the straps that were tangled in his fingers under her cascading hair. One of the small triangles fell away, revealing her small, pert breast which he quickly covered with the palm of his insistent hand.

He pushed the other triangle away and lowered his mouth to kiss and caress her pebbling breasts. "Not yet," she protested through a wicked smile, crossing her arms teasingly in front of her chest. She stepped up to the next stair. "We're dirty."

His eyes lit up, focusing on where she hid her delectable breasts. "Let's get dirtier," he growled through a lusty smile as he wound the bottom tie of her bikini top twice around his fingers.

She giggled and took another step. Luke's eyes widened as he stood watching her bow slowly, being released as she moved away. He was left holding the limp, stringy suit. Mesmerized by the sensuous stripping game that was evolving; he thoughtlessly discarded the colorful scrap and followed her up another step.

He smiled knowingly and they held each other's gaze while he grasped a fist full of fabric from each side of her skirt. Her own movements stripped off the skirt along with her inhibitions. She felt the elastic give as she moved away, her desire growing while the fabric remained stationary, and her hips slipped out of it, leaving her slim thighs bare.

Once it slid past her knees, she turned to face him and sat back on the stairs, her curled fingers clutching the banister post to keep her balance. Acutely aware that she had all of his attention, Lorelai crawled away in her skimpy bathing suit bottoms. Her eyes never strayed from his as she untangled the filmy skirt from her feet and kicked it aside.

When Luke's eyes left hers, they rested on her heaving breasts that she no longer hid, then they travelled down to her taut belly. There, they lingered around the soft flair of her hips causing a heated flush to warm her skin under the stare that took in every inch of her long, slender legs. Her eyes followed his as they travelled back up to the strings on each side of her bikini bottoms. He hooked a finger under each side and held his breath, anticipating her next move.

Lorelai emitted a soft, luxuriant moan as soon as his warm, strong fingers touched the pliant flesh of her hipbones. She hesitated for a moment, while taking in the blue velvet of his eyes. A surge of feminine desire flooded her core. Enticingly slow, he peeled the last slip of fabric from her body. She lifted her hips in consent. Luke let out a low, throaty growl when he revealed her new tan lines that framed her pelvis, drawing a deeper contrast between her trimmed black curls and the triangle of her palest skin. He still found it hard to believe that he was with Lorelai at last. She wanted him and he couldn't stay away if he tried.

His momentum carried him up to where she stopped. Inches from her face, he hovered above her. His breath tickled her ear and the side of her face. She allowed him to catch her, pull her into his arms, and claim her mouth again. The kiss was as much a destination as it was a stepping stone to get to where they both knew they were going. They pressed their bodies against each other, savoring the contrast of hard against soft, smooth against rough, needing to be connected to each other by more than just a kiss.

Lorelai tore at his shirt, and lifted it over his shoulders as she plastered kisses against his chorded chest. He helped her remove it, then wrapped her in his arms again. In a controlled descent, he lowered her to recline on the landing behind her before dipping his face to smother her breasts in famished kisses, nibbles, and decadent swipes of his tongue. Lorelai responded to each caress with increased enthusiasm, her nerves sending shards of sensations out to her nipples, beaconing him to feast upon them even more.

All of Lorelai's thoughts of the shower, or of waiting, had been taken over by thoughts of feeling his weight on her with her legs enveloping him. She had no thoughts except for those of his warming touch. The hunger of needing him hit her with an urgency that she had never experienced.

He cradled her head in his hand and claimed her; she opened up to him, inviting him into her warm depths. She was more than ready for him, as she tore at his trunks until she heard the satisfying rasp of the Velcro separating each hook from each loop.

Luke circled his hips, rubbing his desire across her mound. Lorelai attempted to stifle her impatience, but it was too much to take. She whimpered with need, not able to wait another moment. She relished the taste of summer on his sun-baked skin. He was salty, and tropical, and oily, sliding over her moist and eager body. She relished the smell of the coconut-scented lotion clinging to his skin, mingling with his unbridled masculinity and invading her senses. He was right; they would be getting a lot dirtier, but that was fine with her.

She pushed his shorts down impatiently, eager to eliminate the last barrier between them. He aided the process by toeing off his shoes. Kneeling on the stair below her, Luke nudged her legs apart to make room for himself. He positioned her so that she rested forward on the landing. Seeing her with her body open and inviting made his heart swell. He wanted this woman. He needed her. Right now.

He lowered himself and paused at her entrance, swirling himself on her pleasure-swollen nub. Lorelai cried out in urgency and impatience. "Luke," she whispered in a husky, strangled plea. "Please…"

He looked into her eyes and held her gaze as he complied, his hot skin finally breaching the entrance of her very core. She was wet and willing and he had waited long enough. Succumbing to the fact that he was only a man, he took her right there on the stairs, in one smooth, filling stroke. She cried out in surprised ecstasy, which echoed off the cool walls of the stairwell. A satisfying look of serenity settled on her face. He watched her mercurial expressions before she closed her eyes. Then, he slid into her with long, unrelenting strokes.

Luke had never known such pure bliss. The feeling of being inside Lorelai Gilmore was more than merely physical and much more than love. He didn't know how to describe it, but it felt like home. He belonged there, inside of her. He felt as if he lived to feel her heart beating next to his, to feel her breath on his neck, and to hear her cry out in pleasure. Insisting on more, she encircled him with her legs and pulled him closer. They didn't attempt to hide that this session would be fast and furious, a need to be satisfied immediately. And immediate it was. An all consuming flame rushed over both of them.

Their juncture heated, igniting the passion with such ferocity that they forgot their surroundings. Each was aware only of the other and their bodies pressed against each other, rocking as one. Lorelai's hands skimmed down his back. She caressed the deep channel of his spine, and relished the muscles in his shoulders as he flexed and relaxed above her, trapping her under him with his delicious weight. Her feet met and hooked around his hips, her ankles pulling him in deeper and deeper with each thrust.

Her insistence at being filled brought him directly to the edge, where he sat overlooking the scenery and dangled his legs, allowing her to catch up. She wasn't far behind. Once she began calling out his name and arching into him, with her breasts thrust forward, he knew she was sitting on the ledge right next to him.

"You're so beautiful, Lorelai," he husked.

Lorelai tried to keep her eyes open to see the breathtaking man who was filling her with ecstasy. But she lost the battle when she finally succumbed to the pleasure. Her eyelids dropped heavily to lock out all light, except for the fireworks that burst behind her eyes. Her feminine center coiled its grip tightly around him as she built to a climax. Suddenly, tremors coursed through her, causing her to shatter like a china dish being dropped on a ceramic tile floor.

Her gasps and shudders told him all he needed to know about the pleasure she felt. And he let go to follow her down the same path. His ragged breath hitched with each emptying thrust, until finally they were spent, and lay in each other's arms for several minutes. Luke's face was buried in the crook of her neck, resting wearily until they caught their breath.

Luke moved a wayward lock of her hair away from her eyes before kissing her softly and tenderly, in complete contrast to the fiery passion that had consumed them moments ago.

Lorelai was caught off guard by the influx of emotions that settled around her heart. In an effort to stifle those feeling from springing to her eyes, she said, "We _really_ need that shower now." She and loosened the passionate grip she had on him.

"Let me hold you for a minute first," he said, breathing in the warm, sensuous summer oils that mingled with the scent of her skin. She hugged him to her breast, cradling his head in her hands, knowing that a minute would never be long enough. And she wondered which minute it was exactly, when she had fallen hopelessly in love with Luke Danes.

~*~*~

TBC


End file.
